


Imperial Space II: Queen of the Empire

by TheDarkPorg



Series: Imperial Space - A Jaina Solo Story [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: And if you squint you can still fit this in somewhere after "Invincible", Badass Jaina Solo, Badass Tahiri Veila, Bondage, But the only direct Glove of Darth Vader reference is in the title, F/F, F/M, Imperial Officers (Star Wars), Imperial economic policy (Star Wars), Imperial politics (Star Wars), Inappropriate use of a Jedi, Inappropriate use of a Lightsaber, Infidelity, Multi, References to past Jaina Solo/Jagged Fel, Sex-Tape, Sorosuub Preybirds, The other sort of inappropriate use of a lightsaber, Trigger warnings for just about everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkPorg/pseuds/TheDarkPorg
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a Star Wars where Han Solo and Princess Leia had a Jedi daughter, Jaina. She married a former TIE Pilot, and when he became the leader of the Imperial Remnant, she was supposed to become a symbol of reconciliation, and a force for Jedi influence.Instead, she got divorced, and drunkenly agreed to take over her ex-husband's job. Now she's Grand Moff Jaina, complete with Tarkin-style uniform and Palpatine-style throne. She's finding it hard to remember why she used to think the Rebels were the good guys, and her private life's become far too complicated for the straight girl she says she is.The Empire's turned Jaina Solo into one of its own - can she still find a way to be a guardian of peace and justice...?
Relationships: Jaina Solo/Most of the Moff Council, Jaina Solo/Most of the Moff Council/Tahiri Veila, Jaina Solo/Tahiri Veila
Series: Imperial Space - A Jaina Solo Story [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022902
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel that, to my surprise, one of you did actually ask for. Notes at the end of the first chapter of [the first story in this series](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083901/chapters/45337591)

“SoroSuub Preybirds?” Tahiri asked, making that face she made when she was trying not to make a face.

“They’re perfectly good fighters,” Jaina countered, pulling on her pilot’s gloves.

Tahiri gave her a skewed look.

“Speak your mind,” Jaina gestured.

“I know I’m not the most natural person with the tech stuff,” she said, running her hand through her tousle of blonde hair. In the black jumpsuit of an Imperial pilot, with the zipper pulled half-way down so that the unisex cut was comfortable on her chest, she looked elegantly piratical. “But I _am_ a qualified X-wing pilot. And on pretty much every count, these things come in inferior.”

“Let’s just see how they fly in the simulator?” Jaina suggested softly. “If they don’t work out, we can always send them back.”

“And swap them for fancy TIEs?” Tahiri asked.

Jaina flashed her a grin, without answering directly. A few weeks earlier, her husband had walked out on her and run off to Hapes with a barbarian space queen, so she'd drunkenly agreed to take over his abandoned position as the Empire's head-of-state, in exchange for having Tahiri released from an Imperial prison to serve as her bodyguard. She'd hoped that two Jedi girls might be able to make some improvements to the Empire's attitude—but since then, the Moffs had gradually replaced everything from her wardrobe to her music collection with Imperial alternatives, and Tahiri, who'd somehow promoted herself from bodyguard to girlfriend, had entered into the game with enthusiasm. 

She suspected that Moff Tagge was trying to prove a point by allocating them the big Imperial fighters and a pair of simulator pods for training, but she wanted to be armed with comprehensive simulator results before she tried to swap the Preybirds for TIE Defenders. “Moff Sacker will enjoy watching the recordings of you being shot down,” she teased.

The simulators were a close copy of the front of the Preybird’s fuselage, with the cockpit perched above the nose, far further forward than the canopy on an X-wing. Even though they were sitting directly on the deck, reflecting the fact that Preybirds didn't bother with conventional undercarriage struts, the cockpit seemed a long way off the ground and when the actual fighters had arrived that morning, Jaina had been surprised how much space they took up in the hangar, compared with her old X-wing—the fuselage was almost twice as long, partially to accommodate the concussion missile system, with a magazine amidships and firing tubes front and aft.  


"Here goes nothing," Tahiri said, pulling on her helmet—one advantage of the Preybirds was that they didn't have to suit up for hard vacuum like TIE Pilots, and the headgear was open at the front, although there was a solid jawbar containing the usual breather and speaker modules, with a drop-down glareshade visor and a flexible neck coupling for the standard flight-suit collar, to provide a rudimentary atmospheric seal when required. Jaina wasn't entirely sure that the design was better than the fully-open X-wing version, but they felt a lot less like ~~~~bondage hoods than the normal Imperial Pilot helmet, and she decided that she did probably appreciate that.

She was supposed to be the Empire's head of state, and flying fighter missions in a gimp suit would have made her feel too vulnerable, too submissive. Perhaps that was, subconsciously, why she'd been prepared to give the big fighters a chance.

She put a hand to the top bar of the ladder, and slotted one toecap into the notch of the bottom rung, swinging the canopy open as she levered up, and dropped into the seat.

 _Just like getting into an X-wing_ , she thought.

The first thing she noticed was the sense of space—the transparent canopy seemed to have taller side panels than the X-wing, and the size of the cockpit was increased by a back-to-back seat for an optional rear-facing co-pilot, but that wasn't the whole reason why she felt like she had so much room. In the X-wing, with the bulky housing for the power core and hyperdrive directly behind the pilot, the view astern was badly restricted, and she realised for the first time how much the X-wing's forward view was also compromised, with the long nose of the fuselage thrusting ahead to accommodate the sensor gear. True, the TIE Fighter was far worse—the circular forward viewport of the ball cockpit was little more than a gunsight for the pilot, designed to be guided onto target by a flight controller aboard a capital ship. But that didn't mean this wasn't... well, _better_.

She turned round in the pilot’s seat, appreciating the freedom the low backrest of the chair provided, and the excellent view directly astern, facilitated by the way the fuselage stayed low behind the cockpit, and even tapered downwards slightly at the rear. There was a slight blind spot on either side where the wings lifted up and out, but the overall visibility was excellent. The raised wing configuration even gave the pilot a clear view of the low angles behind the hull, where a lot of pilots liked to attack from, and with the cockpit perched so far forward, she felt like she could almost lean over and look down beneath the nose.

“Roomy in here,” Tahiri noted on the comm, sounding pleasantly surprised. “At least we can get shot down in comfort.”

“Let’s see what they’ve got,” she answered, powering up the simulator. The pre-flight routine was simple and practical, just a row of switches beneath the forward situation screen. The deep sound of the drive was reassuringly rugged, suggesting reliability and a useful amount of power. The provision of a two-handed control column rather than a flight-stick made clear that this was an Imperial plane, but she'd flown similar controls aboard the _Falcon_ since childhood. The stars outside the cockpit looked just like the real thing.

The strangest thing for Jaina was the lack of comm feedback from an astromech socketed behind the cockpit. The Preybird used a built-in navacomp, trading the flexibility of an astro-droid for simplicity and dedicated processing power. Spanker, her R7 unit, was reduced to scooting around the apartment, mixing drinks, tidying up their bondage toys, and occasionally slicing into the computer and ordering inappropriate holoporn. Tahiri had suggested more than once that they should turn him into a trash compactor.

She blinked, as a holographic text scrolled up in front of the stars outside her cockpit, announcing the mission the simulator had been programmed for.

 _A rogue faction of Jedi Knights have created warrior clones of Jaina Solo and Tahiri Veila_ , she read. _Your mission_ _as Steel Flight_ _is to fight your way through two wing-pairs of clones flying XJ-series fighters, then shoot down a third pair flying StealthX assassination ships before they can destroy the archaeological camp investigating ancient Jedi ruins on Dantooine_.

“Is this a standard training simulation?” Tahiri asked, sounding slightly hurt.

“I’ll make enquiries,” Jaina answered, pressing her lips together in a line. “At least we'll know exactly how well we’d do in X-wings, if the simulations are anything close to accurate.”

“All those combat sims that Jag and his pilots used to challenge you to,” Tahiri countered. “Now you know what they were doing. They probably just added me just to get your standard-issue Imperial recruit riled-up and righteously aggressive.”

“Quiet.” She didn't want to ask Tahiri just how much time _she'd_ spent in Imperial flight sims when she'd been Jacen's liaison with the Moffs. "We have four X-wings on our twelve."

The first two X-wings moved ahead to engage them, and scissored wide. "I have the leader," Jaina clipped, turning her fighter to face off against the simulated opponent based on her. She found herself lifting her eyebrows at how quickly the Preybird turned—not as fast as a TIE, but quicker than anything with a sane snubfighter design had any right to. The acceleration wasn't quite as fast as she was used to, but the redline felt pretty equal to her X-wing.

She turned her fighter up on one wing to dodge the first round of quad-laser fire from the X-wing, gaining a little height as the manoeuvre proved quicker than expected, then grinned wickedly, and looped around to show the simulator's imitation Jaina her tail. She watched her shield indicator as she took a couple of glancing hits, but wasn't worried if the AI was doing what she'd have done, and using short burst from the guns to avoid wasting a torpedo or depleting her shield energy.

The AI made the mistake of trying to get in on her six, manoeuvring for the spot she'd scored half her kills from. Jaina smiled thinly, and let loose with a concussion missile from the aft-firing launcher.

Preybirds were unusual enough that she hadn't known about the aft launcher until she took delivery of one. And her AI opponent responded exactly the way she would have. The X-wing snap-rolled to avoid the projectile, probably expecting a proton torpedo with limited range and manoeuvring capability—and the concussion missile switched course, and slammed into the side of the fuselage somewhere between the cockpit and the engines.

"You cheated," Tahiri objected ~~~~. She'd taken down her own quarry with laser fire, in a tight turning fight somewhere on the left.

"Exploiting the advantages of the design," Jaina countered, her dark eyes hunting her screens, and the stars, for the second pair of X-wings. High, off to port, working round their rear. "I'll take the next one with my guns."

"You mind if I join in?" Tahiri asked. ~~~~

"Take the lead," Jaina answered, throttling back. They'd never really flown together as pilots in the same formation, which seemed bizarre, but Tahiri had a predator's lean instincts, and Jaina found her wing a comfortable place to be. The Preybird's remarkably quick manoeuvrability and their shared Force-instincts meant that they could dance around each other's jets in a close formation, always watching each other's back.

The two X-wings tried to take them one-on-one, but they simply didn't have the same agility, and as they looped round again for another pass, they underestimated the Preybird's slightly hesitant mid-range acceleration, so that the one point of obvious weakness compared to Rebel fighters became a paradoxical advantage—they came in too sharp on the turn, and that let the girls drop back on their tails again.

Perhaps they'd have been even more deadly flying TIEs together, but TIEs didn't have the same long-range punch in their lasers, or the shields that let them fight head-to head. Tahiri claimed the leader this time, though Jaina's shooting took out the shields, and then they closed in on the final plane.  


Two against one, the energy storm of laser bolts from their wingtip guns simply tore the simulated fighter apart.

"Okay," Tahiri breathed. "We just vaped pretty good AI versions of ourselves in top-line X-wings. I'm impressed."

Jaina nodded, signalling her agreement in the Force. "We should have sex more often. Let's go save some imaginary scientists."

They couldn't see any trace of the StealthX fighters in the sky around them, but the system was a big place, the StealthX was _very_ hard to spot in the deep black, and they knew how to slip in unnoticed. They'd even given presentations on their tactics to the Empire.

Thankfully, they knew where their opponents had to go to to complete their mission—the archaeologists' camp beside the old Jedi enclave on the surface of Dantooine. So they just had to get there ahead of them. The spaceframe of Jaina's fighter buffeted convincingly as they dropped down from starry space to evening sky, but once she was flying in clean air, the Preybird was amazingly quick, and even more responsive—in atmospheric mode, the engines were fed by powerful compressors in the sides of the fuselage, with narrow intake vents behind the cockpit, rather than through the blunt circular cowlings which the X-wing used—the more sophisticated system provided extra thrust, while the streamlined cross-section was more naturally aerodynamic. She found a grin. Fighting the X-wings had been about tactics and manoeuvres, exploiting their new planes' unusual range of performance with a strange mix of natural flying instinct and methodical Imperial discipline. In sub-orbital flight, however, the Preybird was easily the best fighter she’d ever flown.

And compared with a StealthX? Well, even Jaina would admit that the Jedi plane was a sluggish flying brick with strike-foils, a plane that demanded the disciplining of the Jedi pilot’s reactions to exploit the tricksy manoeuvring qualities of unstable aerodynamics and add accurate aiming to the advantages of sensor-passive tactics. The Preybirds might have had some trouble in a space fight, but even in the dark blue evening sky, the two of them had no trouble picking up the contrails of their opponents with the naked eye, and closed to kill with guns.

She supposed that TIE Fighters, relying on sensor guidance from a flight control officer aboard a command ship, might have had more trouble picking them up.  


Even so, Jaina was mildly appalled how easily the leading StealthX went down under Tahiri's guns. Perhaps that was just bad estimation of the type's combat performance—the first StealthX the Empire had got hold of was probably the one which they’d acquired along with her, and just begun dismantling on her orders. But they had enough telemetry from the various encounters they'd had with Star Destroyers.

She hesitated before drilling a gratuitous torpedo through the cockpit of the second Jedi fighter, and simply shot out the power core and the astromech, watching the fragile spaceframe disintegrate. She'd understood, intellectually, that special sensor-baffling materials didn't have armour protection, and that the idea behind the StealthX was simple— _don't get hit_.

But watching the reality of a takedown, even in a sim, was sobering.

She laughed, as she saw a holographic copy of Tahiri on a parachute, shaking her fist at them.

“Okay,” Tahiri said, sounding cheerful. “You convinced me. I like the Empire's new version of us better.”

"I do too," Jaina breathed, pulling the control yoke back, smiling as Tahiri followed her into the sky. "I do too."

There'd be a time to refine their tactics later, and figure out how much damage the Preybird's rugged but relatively lightly-armoured fuselage could take. Perhaps some one-on-one dogfights might be fun. But for now, they'd worked up an appetite for brunch.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaina watched as Tahiri wandered back into the bedroom, naked from the collar down, but carrying a flat rectangular device in one hand, which looked a little like one of the little tabletop heaters they used to keep take-out dishes warm—black with a flash of chrome laid across the top. She frowned as she recognized the portable holoprojector grid—a classic piece of Imperial technology, simple to build and uncompromising in functionality, but stylish and sexy to look at.  
  
There was an alchemy to the combination of shiny metal grid and curve-edged black plastoid base that was almost irresistible.  
  
She lifted her eyes, glanced up questioningly at Tahiri—then blushed, and lowered her gaze again.  
  
Tahiri flashed a grin. "Incoming transmission for the Grand Moff," she said, and laid the holoprojector on the rippled sheet in front of Jaina.  
  
"Is my personal comm setting set up properly?" Jaina asked.  
  
One good thing about being the Empire's head of state was the protocol that insisted you used a scaled-up head-and-shoulders image when you were on the comm ~~~~. Until she was installed in the top job, she'd always thought the rule was weird—Admiral Pellaeon had never indulged the tradition, and she'd been quietly annoyed by her ex-husband's enthusiasm for the option.  
  
But when you were liable to be locked in bondage at awkward times of day, and your bodyguard... _girlfriend_ insisted on you taking important comm calls wearing nothing except the shackles, the Imperial setting was one way to provide a sort of modesty.

So long as she could trust Tahiri to actually _keep_ her on the Imperial setting, anyway. She'd held an hour-long conference call with Drasi, Tagge and Sacker, the three Moffs who had become her informal inner cabinet, without realising that Tahiri had switched the display to the normal setting, giving them a quarter-sized full-body image of her.  
  
As the Moffs said, the view was nothing they hadn't seen before. Admittedly, that was primarily because of the sex-tapes her ex-husband and his friends had made, but somehow, she'd ended up in a sort-of relationship with all three of them as well.

Drasi, the head of Imperial Security, was dangerously handsome and effortlessly dominant. Sacker, the military governor of the capital, was the sort of hard-drinking, take-charge lesbian fighter ace she fell in love with far more often than a straight girl should, and Tagge, the only one she hadn't actually had sex with yet, was a straight-backed Imperial stereotype who flattered several of her private kinks.

"Appropriate display settings?" Jaina repeated. "Tahiri?"

"Always," Tahiri smirked, leaning over Jaina's naked body and playing with the long cylindrical wrist cuffs that were being used to fasten her hands behind her back. Although they were currently paired with some mag-locked connecting chains and a matching pair of ankle-bracelets as the basis of a very sexy and restrictive Gammorrean-cuff, they were officially her favourite pair of chrono/comlink bracelets—expensive ones with a built-in holographic interface that could be used to control other comm equipment.

Jaina was sure there was a simpler way to activate her holoprojector.

"So who am I being inappropriate with today?" she asked, wriggling a little. She supposed she could pass off the chrome durasteel collar she was wearing as decorative jewelry—a relatively slim shackle, only two or three centimeters tall, with the Imperial badge embossed on the front. "Sacker? Flennic? Tenel Ka?"

"No, this one's from Rebel space," Tahiri smiled, as she pressed a code sequence on Jaina's cuff. "There." A quarter-sized holo-image of Han Solo flickered into view on the display grid.

"Hi dad," Jaina said, with a rueful smile. "You caught me in bed."  
  
"Hey, Janey," her father grinned. She didn't get the sense that he could see what she was wearing. "How's my favourite daughter today?"  
  
"Usual stuff," she said, stifling a yawn. "Empire to run. Coronation to arrange. For some reason they want to _elect_ me first."  
  
"Your mom said," Han nodded. "I don't understand how the Empire's suddenly interested in democracy, and I don't think she does either."  
  
"Makes three of us," Jaina nodded. "I keep meaning to ask the Moffs, but there's always other stuff. TIE Fighter procurement. Fleet logistics. Piracy and smuggling." She smiled. "Your kind of stuff, Dad. You should come out here for a visit."  
  
"I'm not very good at socialising with Moffs," Han shrugged. Jaina smiled. She'd heard his old war stories a hundred times, and she'd been surprised to read the Imperial reports, and discovered that most of them were true.  
  
"They're better than they used to be," Tahiri interjected, off-camera.  
  
"Yeah, well, Jag was always a piece of Sith. And that sleazeball friend of his, Vit Reige."  
  
Jaina laughed. Even Tahiri managed a smile, which reached her eyes this time.  
  
"Are they giving you enough free time?" Han asked. When he said _free_ , Tahiri shimmered with amusement in the Force, as if she'd almost laughed aloud, and began to circle her fingers slowly on Jaina's naked ass. "You haven't asked me to source spare parts for any new ship since all this kriff blew up."

"The Empire gave me a Preybird," she smiled. "Just arrived today."  
  
"Mazzic always said those things were hot-rod," Han agreed.  
  
"And based on what I've seen so far, he was right," she smiled. "They're also wanting me to qualify on the Imperial shuttle."  
  
"I don't think I've been aboard one of those old things since we sneaked into Endor on the _Tydirium_ ," Han smiled. "They're pretty easy to handle, though."

"You've mentioned," Jaina agreed. She suspected her father would be pleased to know that the Empire's shuttle crews were still washouts from the TIE Pilot program, and still merited a corresponding lack of respect from combat flyers like Moff Sacker.

A noise somewhere off-camera made her father turn his head. "Kriff," he said. "Call back later."  
  
"Another day on the _Falcon_ ," Jaina smiled. "Love you dad. Love mom too."  
  
The image flicked to static, and Tahiri flicked the switch that powered down the transmitter.

Jaina blinked. "Weird," she said, shaking her head a little, the tips of her hair dancing against her jawline.

"I know, Grand Moff," Tahiri said, patting her playfully on the head. "Now let's get back to doing normal things, submissive-Jedi-X-wing-pilot-who-agreed-to-become-the-Empire's-head-of-state."  
  
"Normal?" Jaina asked.  
  
Tahiri laughed. "By your standards, anyway...."


	3. Chapter 3

Jaina hadn't been sure they needed a new locker room next to the apartment's enlarged hangar—a squad-sized changing area complete with gang-shower, a standard Imperial module constructed of smaller standard Imperial modules. The most obvious virtue of the project had been the chance to demolish her ex-husband's weight room, and she was sure there were better things to replace _that_ with. But why, she'd asked, did they need hangar facilities that could accommodate up to twenty sweaty Imperials at once?

 _So we can invite the Moffs round via shuttle and have an orgy_ , Tahiri answered, which had won the argument, even if Jaina wasn't sure that was exactly a realistic option. So far, they'd simply used the space for changing in and out of their flight gear, and occasionally having shower sex afterwards.

Jaina glanced into the shower. The handcuffs were still hanging where they'd left them last time, shiny like they belonged there in amongst the nozzle fittings. She shook her head, and pulled her flight boots on.

"Should one of us salute?" Tahiri smiled, as they stood up and fastened up their cockpit uniforms again.

Today, they were wearing the simple black flight jumpsuits without any insignia of rank, or anything as useful as code-key cylinders in the shoulder pockets or discreet high-heels on the boots, let alone the distinctive helmets and harnesses of Imperial Pilots. The unisex cut of the uniform was still surprisingly flattering on a well-toned female body, but there was a definite authority to Tahiri's taller and more muscular physique—and Jaina had completed the effect by agreeing to have her own hair done up in a regulation braid, reducing herself to the image of an anonymous Flight School cadet.

She was feeling very conscious of the way that the meaning of the uniform was changed completely simply by accessorising the jumpsuit slightly differently. That felt very _Imperial_. That made _her_ feel very Imperial, too.

"I'm training as a shuttle pilot, today," she shrugged, pulling on the uniform cap, and standing up, saluting in the Imperial style, heels clicked together, back straight, head essaying a bow. "And you're the Grand Moff's bodyguard. Just pretend I'm one of the usual washouts from TIE Pilot enlistment. No special privileges."

"Just because I'm Moff Sacker's ex-girlfriend, doesn't mean I like to domme cadets," Tahiri grinned. "Besides, if you want someone who's a trained Academy instructor, why not Tagge?"

"I don't think he did Flight School," Jaina answered, falling in step behind her.

"Gunnery's part of Flight Branch, right?" Tahiri reminded her. "That's why he's a General, not an Admiral. I thought you were supposed to be the Imperial Military fangirl in this relationship."

Jaina didn't answer. She stayed silent, and a step behind, as the two of them walked down the wide access corridor towards the blast doors of the Imperial apartment's enlarged hangar bay.

"So, why are we doing this?" Tahiri asked cheerfully, keying a security pass into the door plate.

"Moff didn't say," Jaina shrugged. She'd wondered if she should have asked, but she'd agreed in advance to a list of vehicle-piloting skills they thought she needed—everything from Preybirds to AT-ATs to infiltration pods. Apparently this sort of familiarization requirement was standard practice for Imperial high commanders, though the list they'd put together her was somewhat idiosyncratic. She had decided that going along with the instruction and seeing if anything else was being added to the list would be more interesting, more informative. She kept expecting that she was about to be manoeuvred into the cockpit of a TIE. "Should I be worried that I'm supposed to be in charge?"

Tahiri pursed her lips. Jaina wondered if she was wondering which of the three Moffs had ordered this, and what that would imply, or if she was pondering Jaina's submissive acceptance, and wondering if she should be worried by that. "I think your submissive streak's an asset for the head of state," she said, navigating her words carefully. "You don't play favourites, and you use your loyalty to the Empire as a whole to stand up for everyone. You're also _very_ cute in bed."

 _Loyalty to the Empire as a whole?_ Jaina wondered. When had that happened? "Since when did you become my domme?"

"Just doing my duty for the Empire, ma'am."

Then they were through the open hatch, in the hangar—there was a space at the back where TIEs would normally be racked above the deck, and the two new PreyBirds and their simulators were parked off on one side, the slot where her X-wing had once sat left empty—but the latest arrival was the compact fuselage of an Imperial Shuttle, with a blank plate on the cockpit module in place of a viewshield, a simulator retrofitted from an old spaceframe.

Tahiri gave a small frown, as her eyes studied the small plaques of equipment on the outside of the plate, controlling what was essentially a holographic visor locked over the whole front of the cockpit.

"You okay?" Jaina asked, giving her a thoughtful look.

"Yeah," Tahiri affirmed, nodding. "Best we both pretend to just be good recruits," she said, hesitating over something—as if a part of her was fighting an odd urge to acknowledge Jaina's rank.

"Okay," Jaina said, looking up at the shuttle. "Let's see how good we are at being mediocre barge pilots."

"And afterwards we can have sex and work out if this shuttle-training program is designed to do any more than subtly humiliate you, Grand Moff?" Tahiri suggested.

"Yeah, that," Jaina nodded, as the ramp lowered, and they walked aboard.


	4. Chapter 4

"Biscuit Baron?" Jaina asked, stretching up to fetch the cereal packet from the top of the storage unit, and frowning at the stylised image of an Imperial aristocrat in high-collared cape and glareshades. "Is this Tagge's idea of a joke?"

"I think _anyone_ in the Empire would find this funny," Tahiri answered, strolling in and fastening her uniform, grinning up at Jaina. "Besides, you used to like that stuff when we were kids."

"Not my point." Jaina had meant to give her a flat look, but instead, she found herself raising her eyebrows at the outfit the blonde had somehow managed to get hold of—a red version of an officer's undress uniform, with her choker just about hidden inside the collar of the tunic, and straight trousers and spike-heeled boots that made her look lean and dangerous. She had the rank badge of an Army Lieutenant on her lapel, a square metal badge set with a quartet of four smaller squares—the top pair the same colour as the red fabric of the uniform, the other two a contrasting shade of bright blue. Jaina wondered whether she'd stolen her Moff Council security codes again, and used them to give herself some sort of authority to wear the insignia.

Tahiri waited patiently while Jaina clambered down from the chair she'd been standing on. Though considering that Jaina was wearing nothing more than a spiked collar, a chastity belt and her own velvet boots with the fifteen-centimeter heels, that probably looked more like a striptease than something you'd do in your own kitchen while the caf was brewing, with a box of Biscuit Baron Bantha Breakfast Biscuits in your hands. She was a little relieved that she wasn't a full thirty centimeters shorter than her girlfriend, today, which she would have been if she'd been barefoot.

"There," she added, brandishing her cereal box. "I knew all that acrobatics training with Aunt Mara would come in useful one day."

"You should pole-dance," Tahiri said. "I'll get a vertical bar set up in the mini-gym for you to perform on. Sacker'll love that. Drasi and Tagge too."

Jaina gave a roll of her eyes, fetched her caf, and brought Tahiri her blue milk and hubba flakes from the cooler, realising that she'd defaulted into the role of servant, before sitting down on the far side of the little breakfast table, and swapping smiles. Their boots played footsie for a moment, all sharp toes and spiky heels. Then she shook out her Bantha Biscuits, poured over the luminous cobalt-coloured jelly that Biscuit Baron called Blue Sauce™, and added her own milk. The sound of her eating counterpointed Tahiri's, accompanied by the curious combination of fibre, full-blooded meatiness and fruity sweetness she remembered from her childhood.

For a moment, she was disoriented by the incongruity of everything—the cluttered little breakfast room in which they were sitting suggested an ordinary apartment, and the view out the window was as close an approximation of civilian civilization as anything in the Empire, but they were perched at the top of the kilometer-tall Imperial Tower, with their private army of brand-new DT-4 combat droids on the floors immediately below, and a battalion of Moff Sacker's stormtroopers garrisoned on the mid-levels below that.

"You should put some clothes on," Tahiri suggested.

She looked out the window, across the gridded city blocks of Ravelin, capital of the Empire, smart and vast beneath a perfect sky. "We're a klick up from the ground, surrounded by ten square kilometers of restricted airspace and a perimeter of TIE Fighters," she summarised. "Who's going to see me?"

"Moff might visit," Tahiri answered, between mouthfuls.

Jaina gave her a skewed look. All the same, rather than letting herself get distracted by the way that Tahiri was making eyes at her naked breasts, she leaned back in her chair and looked around for something to wear. The clothes she'd been wearing night before should have still been lying around—a thigh-length undershirt, a vaguely military-looking jacket and a pair of ridiculously tall boots—Imperial civilian designerwear, her costume for a formal opening ceremony.

She'd been in a hurry to get undressed once they'd come back, with Tahiri making out with her whole body as she stripped off.

But someone—Tahiri or Spanker?—had tidied up. Instead, she had to take the uniform jacket off the back of her chair—the one with the Grand Moff's rank insignia and four code cylinders, discarded there after the most recent Moff Council meeting. Which of them had hesitated to put that piece of high-ranking Imperial formalwear away with her discarded civilian clothes? She stood and slipped the garment on, covering her bare arms and her breasts, shaking the rear flap down over her bare butt—but the spiked leather collar she still had on around her neck meant she couldn't close the neckline, so she didn't bother with the cross-fastening lapels and let the belt flap loose.

She realised as she sat back down that her cheeks were still naked on the chair either side of the cool metal links of the chastity-belt's butt-crack chain, and the way the jacket fell open was probably doing nothing to hide the durasteel crotch-plate either. If anything, she felt _more_ underdressed than before, self-conscious about the underwear, but the garment's weight and shape and the jewelry of rank insignia somehow made her feel properly dressed—properly Imperial.

She tugged back the sleeve so she could freely access the chrono/comlink cuff around her left wrist and tapped her nails on the shiny metal surface of the shackle, activating the holographic display interface and logging in to read the morning newsfeeds. That done, she picked up her spoon with her free hand. As Grand Moff, she felt a little guilty that she had access to Fleet Watch, The Life Monitor, and other Alliance packets that were delisted from normal distribution in Imperial Space.

"Suits you," Tahiri said, her gaze admiring the way the unfastened tunic fitted her. She gestured lazily with her spoon, and took another scoop of her breakfast. "Half way between an Imperial Advisor and a swoop-bike gangster. You should write music reviews for _NewsStack_."

Jaina shook her head, decided there was nothing interesting in the news, and went back to her Bantha Breakfast Biscuits.

"Look at us," she said, after a few moments. "Two happy Imperial lesbians having our Imperial breakfast while we wear our uniforms."

"Yes?" Tahiri asked, with a bright smile. "And?"

"Kriff," said Jaina, exhaling hard.

"Eat your Bantha Breakfast Biscuits," Tahiri grinned. "I'd join you, but you know I don't eat Bantha."

"You used to have a pet one, when we were kids, didn't you?"

"Still do," she smiled. "I keep him in a Bantha sanctuary on Arkanis. I'm having him freighted in, as soon as the Alliance customs service play nice about the paperwork. Thought we could put him on level 90."

Jaina snorted. "You're joking? Right?"

"About having an Emotional Support Bantha I don't get to see enough of?" she asked, with a smile. "I suppose we could put him in the Pellaeon Gardens instead."

"No." Jaina breathed out, trying hard not to disintegrate into laughter.

"The Moff Council chamber? I could train him to eat people's hats in meetings."

"No!"

"Well, then. Level Ninety. Should I fake your authorisation, like I did for my rank insignia, or do you want to sign off on this one personally?"

"I wondered where you'd got hold of those."

"From you, technically." Tahiri paused. "Anyway, since we're being all uniformed and Imperial, what's the Empire needing us to do today?"

"Confirming some personnel appointments. I could use your advice."

"These new Moffs?" she asked.

"Yeah," she agreed, switching the holo display to show her desk-work interface. When her ex-husband ran off with the Queen of Hapes, several of his close friends and allies on the Moff Council had tried to stage a coup to hold on to power. Instead, Sacker and Tagge and Drasi had arrested them, and she had drunkenly agreed to be appointed as their head-of-state. And now, that left a vacancy to be filled in the Empire's government, a space which she tried to think of as shaped like a progressive pro-Alliance faction, rather than the men and women who she'd had sex with at Jag's bondage parties.

"So where's the problem?"

"Most of the candidates I want to take are pretty much the ones the Moffs told me to take," Jaina frowned.

"By _the Moffs_ , you meant Drasi, Tagge and Sacker?" Tahiri smiled.

Jaina nodded again. "Yeah." Among other things, she was relying on them to tell her how to keep the rest of the Empire happy, though if she was going to lead effectively, or even play a proper part in governing, she was going to have to get to grips with all the different attitudes, and do some of the thinking and negotiating for herself. She'd privately regarded the appointment of the new Moffs as a test of her ability to run her own analysis of something more complicated than a starfighter tactic, and make a little useful input on important decisions. She ought to be more than a government sex-toy.

"Why not just reorganize the sector borders?" Tahiri asked. "The Empire keeps rearranging things like a party game for people in silly uniform. I'm sure the other Moffs, the ones whose side we're on, would be happy with a handout of some extra planets...?"

"I'm trying to avoid that here. The sector borders seem well designed. In Oplovis and Dantus, they usually get a Governor from inside the local establishment, so that means General Vosteltig and Baron R'aya. In Myto, on the other hand, every second system seems to have a petty king, planetary oligarchy, or baron-administrator, and their sensitivity about who's on top mean that an outside candidate with a reputation for fairness is better. So Prefect Evens seems like the obvious pick. Atrivis is even worse. I think even Drasi doesn't know what to do there. I'm tempted to just let Tagge annexe them to his sector and sort them out. But for Braxant, we have a candidate on the long-list who I like better than the ones that I was recommended. She's young, which I suspect is why she wasn't flagged as a top pick, but everyone who's worked with her seems to think very highly of her." _And she played an important role in arresting her own Moff_ , Jaina didn't add. "She's a Security officer, so Drasi should approve."

She showed Tahiri the file. "Lena Devis?" Tahiri said. "Why do I recognize that name." She scanned down the report, noting information with rhythmic taps of one fingernail on the screen. "She's Admiral Pellaeon's granddaughter?"

"Apparently so," Jaina nodded. "Seems Pellaeon had a family—no official records he was the father, for whatever reason, and the kids used their mom's name, to keep a lower profile."

Tahiri nodded. "So this is going to be a bit awkward."

Jaina nodded, reading the unspoken communication in Tahiri's quiet sigh— _I murdered her grandfather._ "How she reacts to you is going to tell me a lot about the way that Imperials who think fondly of Pellaeon will respond." There was more she wasn't going to say—during the war against the Vong, she'd watched Lena Devis's father ram his TIE Defender into a scar-head interdictor ship, as they fought out of a trap which had bottled up an entire Alliance fleet group, plus the _Millennium Falcon_ , and her parents. She'd found herself wondering what would have happened if they hadn't escaped.

Tahiri made eyebrows at her. "You're planning on brining her up here for a one-on-one?"

"This morning," Jaina nodded. "She's scheduled for eleven hundred. The main gate should alert me when she arrives."

Tahiri smiled at her. "Just as well I'm not the type of girl to distract you too much, Grand Moff..."


	5. Chapter 5

"This wasn't the jumpsuit I meant," Jaina sighed, as she hastily slipped her high-heeled boots through the leg-holes. At least the stretchy white synthetic and the fact that the garment didn't come down any lower than garter-height made the thing easy to pull on in a hurry in a pair of stiletto boots. But without the associated accessories, the costume wasn't much more than a bodysleeve, the tightly-tailored seams designed to accentuate rather than conceal the physique underneath.

She stood up, wrigling her arms down the tight sleeves, and let Tahiri pull the fastener up her back.

"You look great, Grand Moff," she grinned.

Jaina didn't answer. She checked her reflection in the mirror, frowning at her breasts, visibly naked beneath the tight white material, and the very snug way that the costume fitted to her crotch. The fact that she wearing a chastity belt with the Imperial insignia embossed on the front seemed humiliatingly obvious, and she wasn't sure the jumpsuit was any real improvement on just greeting Major Devis in her boots.

"I'd have probably looked more properly dressed wearing my collar and going topless," she muttered.

"I'll remember that preference next time you're in a hurry, Grand Moff," Tahiri smiled.

She waved away the velvet wraparound scarf/cape that went with the boots—not the right look for an interview with an Imperial Security officer, and she definitely wasn't wearing the silly cake-box hat that topped off the ensemble. Instead, she dashed back into their bedroom, to grab the fancy jacket she'd worn the night before. Even worn unfastened, that looked formal enough to pass muster. The angular wraparound lapels fell across the front in a way that hid her hard nipples and Imperial-badged sex, and the colour was almost the same shade as the velvet boots.

The comm chimed, and she hurried back to the front of the apartment. "Stay out of sight," she snapped to Tahiri—taking charge, at least for a passing moment.

She wondered what she'd do if Tahiri ignored her.

She opened the door, and found herself face-to-face with a girl younger than herself, but considerably taller. She was dressed in an Imperial uniform, which seemed pale grey against the bright daytime lighting and shiny metal bulkheads of the Tower corridor, contrasting with her dark-skinned features—she'd inherited her looks from her mom and grandmother, very different from Pellaeon's fair complexion, and Jaina suspected that if they'd just met by chance, she wouldn't have seen the resemblance; but knowing in advance that she was his granddaughter, Jaina could recognize the old Grand Admiral in her broad features, her confident jawline, her level gaze, and her straight-backed posture.

And her brown eyes, brighter than Jaina's own, were very much like Pellaeon's.

"Grand Moff," said Lena Devis, saluting smartly.

"Major Devis," Jaina answered, stepping back and gesturing her in—an exaggerated sweep of movement, ostentatiously civilian. "Thank you for seeing me."

She walked into the apartment, moving in long strides, then pausing to doff her headgear—a cover for the sort of quiet look-around that special forces soldiers often gave to a place they hadn't been before. Even hatless, in her flat-soled boots, she seemed as tall as Tahiri in high heels, and there was an attractive confidence about her posture and physique—an easy balance of strength and suppleness which seemed entirely appropriate for a female officer of Imperial Security.

"I assume this is about Moff Saretti, ma'am," she answered.

"Yes and no," Jaina answered. "Take a seat."

She settled smartly at one end of the lounger, folding her uniform cap in her hands and looking up at her with a composed expression. Jaina decided to stay standing.

This was a test of how well she could handle lower-ranking officers. One she'd set herself. "I want you to be the new Moff of Braxant," she said. A flicker of surprise showed in Devis's eyes. "I know who your grandfather was. I flew briefly with your father in the Vong war. And I also know that you reported on Moff Saretti's activities to Imperial Security."

"I," she began, then paused, as she thought over everything Jaina had just said, and decided to change whatever she'd been about to say. "I'm sure there are far better candidates, Grand Moff."

Jaina tried to smile. "So why do you think I chose you?"

A moment's pause, while Major Devis thought that over, too. "You see me as loyal, Grand Moff," she concluded. "Whether to the Empire in the abstract or to the new power-structure in the specific. You value the fact that I am the Grand Admiral's granddaughter, you feel a debt of gratitude over my father, and you believe that my record as an officer has been at least adequate to justify the advantages that you perceive as deriving from those facts. How did I do?"

"Pretty good," Jaina nodded. "You're uncomfortable with this. Tell me why?"

"I could hardly be called a supporter of yours," she answered honestly. "To be candid, I expected you to end up in a jail cell with Moff Saretti and the other traitors." _Not as Grand Moff of the Empire_ , her eyes added.

"Moff Drasi and some of his associates on the Council have been... educating me," Jaina exhaled. "In ways I hope you would approve of, Major. I'm trying to be a good Imperial. To make up for past mistakes."

The girl's eyes widened, her brows arching. "And yet you're the one who's overruling Moff Drasi's recommendation of Colonel Axman for Governor of Braxant Sector."

"I don't think a stormtrooper is what the sector needs." Jaina shrugged. "I was very impressed by your reports, your grasp of detail and your ability to tackle the wide range of issues that passes across a Moff's desk."

"Thank you, Grand Moff." She shifted uncomfortably. "The Stormtrooper Corps are underrepresented on the Central Committee, and Axman is a very competent and thorough officer."

"Speak freely," Jaina gestured. She'd commanded a squadron of pilots before. The Empire wasn't that much different. "That's not all this is."

The girl's eyes gave a suspicious flicker, betraying a suspicion that Jaina had used the Force to read the subtext of her thoughts—and Jaina wondered if she'd instinctively done just that. But Devis was too professional to show her anger openly. "My father was killed fighting a war that wasn't the Empire's business," she said. "Grand Moff. For a Navy captain, he had a decidedly impolitic admiration for the Rebel Alliance—your father was his hero, in fact—but I think he overestimated how much that Rebel idealism was really embodied in the New Republic. I was fifteen at the time. I do not share his sympathy. My grandfather was killed by a Jedi Knight, who is a personal friend of yours. You'll forgive me if I lack enthusiasm for anyone associated with the Alliance, or the Jedi, or with you."

Jaina nodded. "What you say is hard to disagree with, Major. But I'm interested how Moff Saretti and Moff Reige, fit into this. They were on Pellaeon's side. They betrayed and imprisoned Tahiri. I'd have thought that you'd be loyal to them." _Instead, you reported them to Moff Drasi. Which is why I'm here as head of state, and not as Vitor's cock-whore_.

"They were pro-Alliance." A simple answer. "The fact that they locked her up used her as a sex-slave doesn't really contradict that to my way of thinking. She still went along for them." _The bitch for Fel and Reige, just like she was the bitch for your brother Jacen._

Jaina exhaled. Sometimes, the Force allowed her to catch the sense of a stranger's unguarded thought, but that was one of the strongest, clearest messages she'd ever read. "Telling you that Tahiri went along on orders from my uncle won't make that better for you," she said. "I know, because that didn't make what they did any better for me."

"You were their whore too, Grand Moff."

Jaina blinked. "A fair observation," she conceded. _And now I'm not._ "Do you understand how Moff Drasi has been able to exploit that to the better advantage of the Empire?"

"I'm starting to, Grand Moff," she nodded, with a smile. "Moff Drasi tells me that he's turning the girl who killed my grandfather into some sort of ultra-loyal assassin, which I suppose I approve of." A flash of vindictive gratification showed in her aura in the Force. "But I'm not quite sure why you're necessary here, if I'm honest. Ma'am?" _Why don't you just go back to wherever you came from?_

Jaina smiled. "The Empire needed a neutral figurehead with no political thoughts of her own, who was acceptable to the opposition. That's what I agreed to be, at any rate. I thought I'd be the modernising counterweight, or something, to people like Moff Flennic and Moff Sacker. But every decision I'm confronted with, and every file I read, makes me feel more like I'm on their side. I need Moffs like you, who're on _that_ side, who will speak their mind without fear or favour. And help me do this job better."

"To bolster your own position? Or to strengthen the Empire?"

"Major, I _am_ the Empire. In the sense that all I can do is _represent_ the Empire. I'm completely constricted by my position, my lack of any personal powerbase beyond... beyond these private quarters," she said quickly. She'd almost named Tahiri. "And by certain character-qualities that I'm sure you've seen the reports on."

"Seen the reports, seen the holos. Packaged them up for your projector. Grand Moff, ma'am." She was grinning now.

"Well, then." Jaina found herself smiling back. "You'll know how much I enjoy serving as the expression of the combined will of a group of Moffs." That made Devis laugh. "Now, I'm just serving the _right_ Moffs," she exhaled. "In public, too."

"You're Moff Drasi's bitch, in other words."

"Got in one, Major."

"Well, then, I'm not quite sure how I feel about _you_ insisting on me joining the Moff Council, ma'am, because that doesn't really fit the narrative you've just given... but I mean, if you want me to help the Moffs keep you in line, I guess I can agree with that."

She had more of an accent when she relaxed, Jaina noted. Somewhere Rimward, less Imperial—but the smile was very much Pellaeon's.

Then Major Devis smiled again. "I'm just not convinced the Moff's chair of the Braxant sector is the right place for me to do that from."

Jaina blinked, then quickly arched her eyebrows. "You're turning me down?"

"I'm telling you you're making a mistake," she countered. "Grand Moff. Are you big enough to take that sort of advice, or are you just here to play out your private power fantasies of being our Rebel slut?"

She swallowed slightly. "Advice noted."

"If you want a Moff who's not a stormtrooper, annexe the sector to Governor Sacker's command, and appoint Colonel Axman as High Commander of a separate military administration."

"Thank you, Major Devis," she nodded. "I'll consider that. If I do... would you accept a promotion to Chief Administrator to help oversee the new arrangements?"

"I'll follow my orders, ma'am."

Jaina smiled at that. "You know, when I was a kid, my heroes in the holomovies used to be the Imperials."

"We _do_ have a thorough file on you, ma'am. For what it's worth, your grandfather was my hero growing up."

"Well, then." Jaina gave her a smile, as she caught up with her meaning. "You said my dad was one of your father's heroes. Your father and your grandfather are both among mine."

She laughed. "Ma'am, you've not met the _rest_ of my family. Perhaps I can introduce you."

"I'll make sure they get an invite to my inauguration, too," Jaina nodded. Devis had stood up, and she shook hands—firmly, fairly, just like her grandfather. "Thanks for turning down my offer, Major, and thanks for trusting that I can be part of your Empire."

"We just need to keep an eye on you, ma'am," she nodded, with a glint of humour in her eyes.

And that was that. She strode out the door—from the rear, her long marching steps suddenly showed off her tight and sexy ass. And when the door slid shut behind her, Jaina exhaled.

She hurried over to the bar, to get herself a drink. Sexy heels clicking on her sexy Imperial floor. That had been about as much non-submissive behaviour as she could cope with, one-on-one around one of her own officers, and she'd pretty much unravelled by the end.

She was wet, she realised. Her pussy had got wet. Just from talking to Major Devis, or from keeping on top of her own submissive instincts, or from the rush of release at the end of the encounter.

"Well," Tahiri said, leaning on the door leading to the back of the apartment, and smiling wryly at her. "That went well."


	6. Chapter 6

"I hear Major Devis turned you down," Moff Tagge remarked.

"As Governor of Braxant," Jaina answered tartly, but she allowed a smile.

Tagge grinned back, and finished his business at the wall-mounted drinks cabinet, dropping ice into her glass.

She was sitting on the corner of the big desk in her office in the Moff Council building, one leg stretched out so the toecap of her high-heeled boot was balanced on the floor, the other playfully swinging. She felt like a bizarre combination of military dictator and sexy secretary, which she supposed encapsulated her relationship with Moff Tagge pretty well.

She caught the tumbler of whisky that he pushed across the desk to her, and gave him a look as she realised he was heading for the big command chair behind the desk.

"That's my seat," she said.

"Yes, Grand Moff," he nodded, walking past the seat to stand in front of her.

She slipped off the desk and stood at attention, provocatively close. Even in the heels, she didn't quite match his height. "You're no fun."

"You dumped me after one date," he reminded her, with a friendly smile. "So my job is to teach you how to run the technical side of the Empire. How's the Preybird working out?"

"I'm impressed," Jaina nodded. "They're good fighters. Imperial, but not at all what I'd expected."

Tagge nodded, and took a sip of his drink. She wondered if he'd replace the Preybird with a TIE, now he'd proved his point. "Anything specific that you would like to discuss, Your Highness?"

She gave him another funny look. She wasn't quite sure what to make of his habit of anticipating the Imperial title that she was supposed to be assuming, or the Moffs' determination to put the issue to a democratic vote. "Before getting on to the details of all this Empress stuff," she said, picking up the hand-held display from the desk beside where she'd been sitting, "I've been looking over my... homework?"

"I was an instructor at the Imperial Academy, Your Highness," he noted dryly. "Do you object to _homework_?"

"No sir," she answered, flirting a little. "But making me review the logistical procurement files for my own apartment seems a little mean."

"Some of the stuff in your new wardrobe is vintage," he teased. "And a few of the pieces of furniture had to be imported."

_Smuggled_ , she thought, but said nothing. "I thought you'd taught me a lesson when you gave the place a makeover. Now I find that the real lesson is in how to abstract everything into transport and deployment, and the questions of efficiency that this involves."

"The Empire's a big version of the same arrangements that go into your apartment. Preybirds. Uniforms. Whisky. Bantha Biscuits. Everything _does_ fit together."

"That's just the thing." Jaina shook her head, her new Imperial hairstyle swaying in a way she really liked. "Tahiri, of all people, reminded me the other day that in the Alliance... in Rebel space—" she shifted half-automatically to the Empire's preferred term for the Galactic Alliance, and was rewarded with a raised glass in salute—"In Rebel space, they use the Senate elections and attempts to unseat the Chief of State as a way to negotiate political tensions, without actually _resolving_ those tensions, rather than just getting on and _managing_ everything sensibly. You take account of public mood—even Drasi says you _have_ to, if you're smart." She gave him a confused look. "You're not going to turn me into an apologist for absolutism, but you're making the virtues of democracy hard to defend in Imperial language. Half your planets even _have_ one form of democracy or another, however limited, for domestic policy. They're just... happily idiosyncratic."

She exhaled, flicked back her hair behind one ear.

Tagge nodded. "Lesson one. Language is contextual."

"Smartass."

"Smart _arse_ ," he corrected her, chinking his whisky glass off hers. "Spoken like a true Rebel. Now get drunk?"

_So we can have sex?_ she wondered, downing her glass—but that was perhaps what _she_ wanted. She'd learned just how Drasi liked his cock sucked, she'd visited a bondage club with Sacker, safely anonymous in a nerfhide hood, she was exchanging flirty texts with Major Devis, and she was definitely in a relationship with Tahiri— _non-exclusive_ , Tahiri teased, reminding her she'd not formally broken up with Moff Tagge either after their one not-very-successful date. Sexually speaking, though, Tagge was the one member of her new inner circle she'd not managed to get together with yet. She held out her glass, and saw he'd finished his in time with hers. "Get me another one, Moff Tagge?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaina knows exactly what she's doing here, but the author, who doesn't normally write this sort of thing, hopes that the character-driven telling comes over all right. The start of the reason for the rating on this 'fic...

Jaina knelt on the floor of Moff Drasi's office, dressed in her full Imperial uniform, with her hands cuffed behind her back, and the taste of cum in her mouth.

This was how she began every meeting with the Director of Imperial Security.

She'd started doing this as a sort of revenge on Jag, and all the other Moffs and Imperial officers whose dicks she'd sucked before her divorce - the friends he'd shared her with, the men she'd enjoyed being shared by. But she'd quickly decided that she simply liked the taste of him. Somehow, sucking off just one Moff seemed like a good way to move on in her private life.

She was getting good at making him cum.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Moff Drasi said, giving her a black-gloved squeeze on the shoulder, and flashing her a smile that wasn't entirely a display of dominance. She watched submissively as he fastened his uniform breeches, right in front of her eyes. She liked the contrast between her own grey uniform and his smart black one. She wondered if a Grand Moff ought to be doing this to a lower-ranking member of the Council, even her Director of Security.

They were talking about promoting her to Empress. Was an Empress allowed to sub for an ordinary Moff?

Was an Empress allowed to sub for _anyone_?

Even more bizarrely, they were preparing to stage some sort of election. She'd been strangely confused to discover that they didn't just plan to rig the vote, but at least she was the only candidate, and was expected to win decisively. That made the Empire's idea of democracy seem reassuringly foreign. Reassuringly Imperial.

She looked up at Moff Drasi, and opened her mouth to ask something, but all she could think about was the cum on her lips.

Then he turned, and walked away, back to his command chair.

She stood, not sure whether that was the appropriate thing to do with your hands in cuffs. Thankfully, before she had to work out if she could open their complicated lock with the Force, Drasi tapped a comm on his desk, and the narrow durasteel bands loosened around her wrists.

"Thank you," she smiled, slipping her hands free, looking down at the binders for a moment, and slipping them back in the pocket of her uniform breeches.

"You have a question, Your Highness?"

"This Empress thing," she said.

"I don't recall that we gave you permission to alter the agreed arrangement," the Director of Imperial Security told her.

"No," she agreed, catching herself before she answered _sir_. "I'm just not sure how this works in practice. I'm supposed to be Empress, but I still don't have a clear sense of what that actually calls for."

"You seem to be doing a very good job already," Drasi answered. She didn't get the sense that he was talking about her ability to give head.

Jaina exhaled. "I'm doing my best. But I don't understand how I should change my behaviour after the inauguration, even if that's only in terms of presentation. Or why everyone's insisting on this whole circus about letting the people of the Empire vote to ratify my promotion, first. Isn't the whole point of having a dictatorship that you can just make decisions?"

"You used to be famously impatient," Drasi teased her. "Are you sure this isn't just that same urge to do things quickly?"

She mulled that over, tasted cum. "No. If that is showing up, that's because I'm not able to get a handle on what I'm doing here, or why we're doing things this way. The Empire doesn't function the way I expected."

"The Empire seeks stability," Drasi told her. "That means we need consent."

She thought that over. "I can _see_ that," she agreed. "I'm just not sure I quite _understand_ how all this works."

"The advantage of being an outsider."

"I need to learn," she countered.

"Just don't lose the skills you've brought in from your Rebel background, Highness," he teased. She shot him a fast and dirty look, but he changed the subject. "Now, the security arrangements for your apartment."

"I'm sure you've been following Commander Veila's report," she answered. She wasn't sure exactly how she went about formally promoting Tahiri, but the rank seemed right.

"I want you to brief me. As Grand Moff of the Empire to her Director of Security."

Jaina sighed. Was this a test? Or did Drasi just get off on this sort of thing? "As you know, the Imperial apartment forms the penthouse of a kilometer-high skytower at the centre of the Palace complex, directly adjacent to the Moff Council building. Direct access is only possible from below. The levels immediately below the accommodation stages have been converted into a droid barracks for a platoon of forty Tendrando Arms DT-4s, which arrived three days ago. They are loyal personally to me, and I trust their programming. Further down the tower, Moff Sacker has deployed a battalion of her best stormtroopers in the former shuttle complex between the upper two guard lines. The guard lines, of which there are seven in total, are well-equipped with automated quad-laser and ion defenses, controlling both the turbolift shafts and maintenance access towards the suite. To say nothing of the outer security perimeters for the Tower and the Palace complex."

Drasi gave a nod of acknowledgement.Jaina was pleasantly surprised how quickly she had shifted her poise. She spun away from the thought that maybe being a soldier and a submissive weren't that far apart.

"The apartment also features a private hangar which is being enlarged to accommodate an enlarged retinue of personal shuttles and fighters and combat-training simulators," she went on. "And if necessary additional repulsor transport. This, as we both know, comprises the one major point of access outside the vertical perimeter. We both agree that discreet access here is a necessary advantage." They were still trying to work out the practicalities of a flight lane that could avoid monitoring by Military Command, allowing her and Tahiri to slip in and out of the system on special missions and enabling the Moffs to visit without going through security. "The sky around the apartment is fully closed. Perimeter TIE patrols and turbolaser positions are fully active, preventing unauthorised approach." She knew what he was going to say, so she raised a black-gloved hands. "I _know_ you want to wire my quarters with enough listening devices, holo-cameras and security droids to create display-quality erotic holos of my entire private life, but the Imperial apartment needs to be a secure space _within_ the sensor perimeter, where we can do our private business without being snooped on by spy systems. Much as your office is, I would imagine."

A nod from Drasi conceded her the point.

Jaina smiled. Last time this had come up, she had threatened to ask her mom for a squad or two of Noghri commandos, but apparently she didn't have to make that point twice. Unlike the DT-4s, the compact alien assassins were very good at sneaking in and out of all sorts of places, and would give her an intelligence-gathering and contact-arranging presence of her own on Bastion, if she wanted to use them that way. The idea of the droid troopers trying to sneak anywhere was almost comical, by comparison - hulking machines twice her height, they were really more like small combat vehicles than the oversized battle droids they outwardly appeared to be - their processors were hard-wired for security purposes in a way that prevented any illusion of initiative or personality, and the fact that their sensor turret cowling and frontal glacis plate resembled the helmet and body armour of a stormtrooper was mostly for effect.

"I think I'm as secure as the Empire can make me, Moff Drasi."

"And your astromech?"

"Spanker?" She laughed, feeling stubborn for a moment. "Spanker just picks up discarded lingerie and tries to film me and Tahiri having sex."

"I understand that Rebel combat pilots are often irrationally attached to their droids," Drasi began.

"No, we're professionally opposed to giving them memory wipes," Jaina countered. "Spanker's not simply a production-spec machine with coded loyalties. The same process of idiosyncratic workaround programming that optimises the interaction between a pilot and their back-seat droid gives them a quirky sort of personality, and makes loyalty overwrites impossible."

"You're thinking like an X-wing pilot, then," Drasi observed.

"No, I'm thinking like the only Imperial pilot who's qualified on the fully armed and operational StealthX infiltrator that we recently acquired."

The Moff looked like he was about to disagree, but shook his head instead. "I'm still concerned about the risk of outside actors, Your Highness."

"With respect, Moff Drasi," she smiled " _You're_ the bad guys. Who am I supposed to feel threatened by? Tenel Ka is trying to be friends again, and I don't regret the fact she stole my husband in the slightest." She flashed a genuine smile. "Uncle Luke leads the Jedi Council. They don't do anything without permission. The Alliance government are civilian politicians - all they care about is elections and their own economy. The Mandalorians are on the payroll, and the Hutts don't care. All the Moffs who were _stupid_ enough to betray the Empire are in jail, and I'm not sure I'm the person to be taking point if they still have assets and supporters you've not identified or locked up."

She reflected that Jag's friends had been pro-Alliance, and the motivation for their attempted coup had apparently been to try to maintain arrangements that favoured them and their foreign allies rather than the Empire as a whole, but she shook off that thought. That sort of selfish factionalism wasn't the way the Galaxy worked - well, not the Galaxy outside Imperial Space, the Galaxy where she'd grown up.

"Besides," she concluded. "The _practical_ part of our arrangement was that Tahiri and I would solve the Empire's problems with our lightsabers. I'm pretty sure we can handle anything that comes up."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tahiri knows what she's doing here. Jaina knows to trust her. The author is just going to have to trust the characters, too...

Jaina tugged her wrists, and grinned up at Tahiri. "Okay," she exhaled. "You've got me where you want me."

Tahiri grinned back, her eyes travelling up Jaina's naked body, from her left-hand high-heeled boot, strapped around the ankle by a padlocked nerfhide cuff and secured to the corner of her bed by a tight length of chain, past her sex, exposed between her wide-open thighs, and zig-zagging across her body and her breasts, then switching back along her outstretched arm to her wrist, strapped by another tight leather binder and shackled by a short length of shiny chain the to the corner of the headboard.

Then she smiled directly at Jaina again, though her gaze seemed to settle on the bright shackle of her collar, rather than quite meeting her eyes.

"Not quite," she smirked, looking remarkably in-control for a girl who was wearing nothing above her boot-tops—even if they were thigh-high high-heeled boots of soft red nerfhide. She had been holding one hand behind her back, or rather behind her ass, accentuating her curves and drawing Jaina's thoughts to the tightness of her butt—but now she brought out what she'd been hiding there. "Now I put this in your pussy, and _then_ I've got you how I want you."

Jaina had assumed that she was hiding some sort of sex toy, perhaps one of their lightsabers or the vongtech vibrator she'd been threatening to build—but the device that she produced looked like a mechanical version of a torpedo roll, with two rounded plastoid half-cylinders snapped together around a filling of shiny metal components. There seemed to be a hinge at the rear end, and some sturdy black cabling connecting to an external power-cell.

The whole thing looked like the sort of heat tongs that people used to curl their hair—the sort of thing her mom had tortured her with when she was twelve, and there was a formal event to attend.

Jaina exhaled, hard. She goggled at the machine a bit. "What the _fuck_ is that?"

"A Force-powered micro-forge for creating synthetic lightsaber crystals," Tahiri told her, pacing smartly up the side of her bed. She tapped the rounded muzzle of the device against Jaina's inner thigh, then playfully traced a wandering path towards her crotch, and began to toy with her—making her feel powerless and submissive as the jaws of the machine explored and pressed against her sex. "Designed by some crazy Hapan scientist to use my poor abused pussy to make focusing crystals for high-powered sporting blasters."

"I have one of those," Jaina twitched. She'd liked the weapon's confident femininity, a sense of elegance and balance which seemed entirely female without a hint of weakness or apology. Now she was starting to understand why the pistol had so much personality—the weapon was built around a captured fragment of Tahiri's aura in the Force. _Tahiri in orgasm_ , to be specific.

"Your husband took a pair off with him to Hapes. Tenel Ka has one as well." Tahiri's green eyes were steady. "I... persuaded Moff Drasi to let me confiscate and dismantle the ones that were left behind in Imperial Space."

"Except mine," Jaina breathed. "So in exchange..."

Tahiri nodded, a sly grin on her lips—she was playing with Jaina, but the determination in her eyes was real. So was the device she was nuzzling into her hole.

"You need a lightsaber crystal that works, Your Moffship," Tahiri teased. "You also need to know just what your husband did to me. Now, the droid brain in the machine can do all the work, just harnessing Force-energy from your arousal—but if you want to _cooperate_ , using the Force-alignment techniques we learned in build-your-lightsaber class at the Academy, that's fine, but if you get negative, or try to resist, the gems come out a little... Sithly."

Jaina swallowed, feeling damp. Tahiri was gliding the machine smoothly in and out of her now. She'd wettened obediently for use.

The way she stood turned Jaina on as well—with and just a hint of a smile in her expression. Only the muscular twitch of her right arm suggested any connection to what Jaina was experiencing between her legs.

"You'll notice the force-fields," Tahiri smiled, as Jaina quivered in surrender. "They can be _very_ pleasant. I might have to build a dovin basal that can do that into your new vibrator biot."

Jaina arched, as Tahiri thrust the device in deep, and shivered as she laid the power cell on the sheets between her wide-open thighs. Something about that felt particularly humiliating—the mental image of the bulky cables curling down from the butt of the device embedded in her sex, to the functional-looking little box of the power pack between her legs. She chewed her lip, and gave a little noise.

There was a warmth down there that wasn't just her own sexual heat, as well. She wouldn't have thought that that could feel so good.

Then a commlink chimed. Tahiri stepped across to the storage unit at the side of the bed, and wrapped Jaina's comlink cuff onto her own wrist. "Grand Moff's apartment," she said, in a playful impression of a secretary's voice.

"My favourite blonde Sith sidekick," Moff Sacker's voice said. "Is your mistress there? I was just heading back to Military Command, and thinking of coming over to discuss some new evidence relating to our pirate problem."

Tahiri gave a wicked smile, and glanced at Jaina, who answered with an urgent shake of her head, an open-mouthed, emphatic, _no_.

"She'll be delighted to see you," the blonde grinned. "Bring your convoy to the rooftop pad, and I'll send a couple of my new DT-4s to escort you down."

"Looking forward to seeing you," Sacker smiled, and the comm channel clicked off.

Jaina let out a wordless scream of sexual helplessness.

"You behave," Tahiri tutted. "Too much of that will make the crystals come out pink."

"Where are you going?" she said, her voice urgent with a panic that she hadn't realised she was feeling. She was straining against the shackles, fists clenched, trying to dig her heels into the bed—no easy manoeuvre in fifteen-centimeter spikes that were tightly chained in place by immobilizing ankle-cuffs—and she was straining to keep her head lifted off the bolster pillow, trying to hold Tahiri's attention.

Tahiri just laughed silently at her.

She flopped back on her bed, and gave a groan of defeated pleasure.

"I should probably put on some clothes," Tahiri smiled. Her eyes and her body language suggested she was joking. "Or I might just decide to tidy the lounge. Need to have somewhere to have sex with Moff Sacker if we decide to be nostalgic. You look _really_ cute like that, you know?"

Jaina sighed, looked up at the ceiling above their bed, the viewports which allowed some natural light into the room. The machine inside her sex was doing amazingly clever things with force-fields—making her clit tingle and her whole pussy quiver, and slowly perfecting the stimulation of the deep place where she found her greatest pleasure. The thing felt good.


	9. Chapter 9

Jaina wasn't sure how long she'd been lying there, squirming around the device and enjoying the stimulation far more than was decent, when she heard the outer door slide open, and the strut of flat-soled boots on the floor.

"Moff Sacker," Tahiri's voice said, sounding like an aide who was about to have sex with her boss. She never sounded quite like that with Jaina.

"Nice pants," Sacker answered, clearly smiling back.

"Thanks, ma'am. I put them on specially."

Sacker snorted in amusement.

 _Pants as in panties_ , Jaina thought, belatedly—her Mom and Threepio had made sure she could speak in a polished Core Worlds accent, but that part of her education hadn't extended to underwear, and negotiating the differences between the idioms of Imperial speech and the less formally-accented terminology she'd once been used to could sometimes be a little awkward.

The Empire's head-of-state laughed softly to herself. _I'm lying here naked except for a Sith sex toy, and I'm worried about the right vocabulary for lingerie?_

"You said Her Highness was available?"

"Yes, Moff Sacker." Through the Force, Jaina could tell that Tahiri's answer was accompanied by that twinge which she experienced when someone groped her breasts. "This way."

Two sets of footsteps curved towards the entrance to the bedroom.

Jaina exhaled, feeling a little flustered by the knowledge of what was about to happen, but the pleasure she was experiencing chased away the possibility of a frown—she was learning to accept the way the machine controlled the rhythm of her arousal, the refusal of the droid brain to quite allow her to climax, and strangely enjoying the way the spiking Force energy generated by her arousal was being gathered into the warm, mechanical structure which filled her pulsing pussy, reformatted by the technology, and imprinted into the evolving crystaline structure at the centre of the pattern.

 _I am such a slut_ , she thought.

She lifted her head off the pillow, feeling a little turned-on by the thought of Moff Sacker briefing her like this, and trying to work out if she could somehow brazen out a proper meeting about commerce-raiding terrorists in this position. In marched Tahiri, wearing her red thigh-boots and a matching pair of panties with the Imperial insignia on the crotch—and nothing else, of course. In contrast, Sacker was in her full uniform, her blonde hair and fair complexion contrasting with the black material.

She gave a laugh when she saw Jaina. Tahiri gave a silent salute, turned and marched out, giving Jaina a momentary view of her butt and her superbly-toned back.

Then she shifted her attention to Moff Sacker, who was looking at her with a very friendly grin, and found herself starting to blush.

"Uhh, hi," Jaina said. "I'm a little tied up at the moment. Would you believe me if I told you this is a Jedi thing?"

"I'd heard about the rather... intimate new method of creating focusing crystals," she said, her gaze settling on Jaina's crotch, her smirk growing. "I just didn't think you'd be trying out the technology yourself."

"I can discuss business like this," Jaina said, then lay back, and gave a long exhale. "Just ignore the body language?"

"You sure? I can come back later, or wait in the lounge?"

"I don't think you two having sex will help me much," Jaina said, breathing out again, suppressing the urge to ask the Moff to unshackle her. "These pirates?"

"Attacking across the Imperial frontier from bases in Rebel territory as you know," Sacker said, caught oddly between formal professionalism and her clear amusement at Jaina's predicament. "The evidence of comm intercepts makes clear that Dorja is heavily implicated." Moff Dorja had been one of Jag's allies, now under arrest and investigation. "The wider network were almost certainly aware—Reige, Saretti, Fel..."

"My ex-husband," Jaina nodded, and began to come. "Excuse me, Moff Sacker."

"I can wait," Sacker smiled, folding her arms and giving her a look that was half-smirk, half-encouragement.

"Kriff," Jaina swore, rolling her head back and gazing at the wall.

She climaxed, sweating and somehow cleansed, arching and tensing in her cuffs, amazed by how the machine slotted into her made her pussy feel.

The device made a noise. Tahiri strutted back in, her panties now abandoned though she was still in her thigh-high heels, and she'd added the shiny red plasteel collar that formed part of her armour. She pulled the sex-toy deftly out, and flipped the housing open. "Finally," she said, with a grin. "My new lightsaber crystal."

"Wait, what?!"

But Tahiri had shoved the sex toy up her sex again, and Jaina let a groan as she felt the whole long process start again.

"Be good, mistress," Tahiri smirked. "You don't want your lightsaber coming out hot pink."

She managed a look of silent appeal towards Moff Sacker.

Sacker just laughed, and strutted up to look directly down at Jaina. "I think I'll stay and watch." Jaina twitched as Sacker's fingertips brushed her nipple. "I heard you and Moff Tagge..."

"We're dating," she managed, weakly.

Sacker gave her a curious look, head tilted to one side in thought—or perhaps just to get a better look at Jaina's . "And is this an exclusive thing?"

She tried not to laugh. "Why are you asking?"

"You know that," Moff Sacker said, teasing Jaina's breasts again, though her gaze was headed down towards her crotch. "You can tell me to stop if this isn't what you want."

Then she tugged down the crotch fastener of her uniform breeches, swung up on the bed, and straddled Jaina's face.

Jaina swallowed as she recognized the implied demand. The Moff wanted Jaina to make her cum. Tahiri walked smartly into view, and presented Sacker with a short chain leash ending in a handgrip, which she clipped to Jaina's collar, and then wrapped a couple of times round her left fist, while her right cupped Jaina's head, holding her face against her naked pussy. A nice, sexy Imperial pussy, dominant and attractive, gendered in a way that was the opposite of Jaina's own innate submission.

There was nothing for Jaina to do except make love to the Moff's pussy, licking and teasing and nuzzling and risking the occasional use of her teeth on her new domme's pretty Imperial clit.

She wondered for a moment if this was a bad idea, and consoled herself with the thought that the power dynamics of her new relationships weren't nearly as demeaning as the ones with Jag and Reige and Saretti and Dorja and their friends had been. She'd been an idiot. Now she knew what she was doing.

In more ways than one. Doubling her effort, she focused purely on the moment.

She made a little noise when she made the Moff come.

"That was excellent," Moff Sacker grinned, messing up her hair.

Jaina just gasped a little.

Sacker grinned, uncoupling the leash from Jaina's silver collar, and circling a finger over the Imperial insignia embossed at the front. "You and Tahiri look so cute in these," she grinned. "Two beautiful Jedi sluts, collared by the Empire."

Jaina looked up at her, and managed a grin of sorts, trying to formulate a more coherent response.

Sacker dismounted, lifting up and sliding back, letting her head drop back own on the bed, a move which arched her body and brought her focus back to the sex-machine still buzzing between her legs. _Not fair._

She gave Sacker a skewed look.

"I've made some caf," Tahiri said, appearing in the doorway again. "The one with the cheap alcohol in is for the Grand Moff."

Jaina gave a dirty look at that, but she was laughing, too. She hadn't been dommed this thoroughly, this pleasurably, this properly in a long, long time.

She just lay back again, riding the waves of pleasure, savouring the tug of the restraints around her limbs, and the sense of rising arousal—and rising submission—that was the result.

 _Why did Tahiri make caf?_ she wondered, glancing at the single cup still sitting on the storage unit. Was this something that Moff Sacker liked, something that Tahiri knew about from their previous relationship?

Probably.

"I'd best be going," she heard Sacker say, out in the main room. "Thanks for the caf-and for Jaina." She was mildly surprised by the realisation that Tahiri and the Moff hadn't had sex.

They hugged—or that was what the moment felt like through the Force, Tahiri's breasts against the other woman's uniform.

There was a murmured exchange, as if they were whispering in each other's ears, a conspiratorial music rather than a sexual one.

"Oh, yes," Sacker's voice said, louder. "That would be a good idea."

Jaina waited as her bodyguard let the Moff out, then lifted her eyebrows as Tahiri walked back in. "What was that about?"

"Would you mind if we made this a surprise?"

Jaina exhaled. She supposed she should ask. But she wasn't in that sort of mood.

And what was the point of being the Empress, if you didn't get some time to do _exactly_ what you wanted for yourself?


	10. Chapter 10

"So," Moff Tagge said with a smile.

He was standing in the outer room of the apartment at the top of the Imperial Tower, which Jaina shared with Tahiri - a man in an Imperial General's uniform, with his back turned to her, looking at the wall art - a holographic recording of Jaina being dommed by Jag and his friends, put into slow-motion to extend the runtime to twelve hours long.

She kept meaning to turn the thing off, at least when people showed up. But at least she wasn't humiliated, or embarrased, any more.

The Jaina on the screen, chained against a bondage frame with her arms above her head and naked legs apart, began to climax under the flogging she was being subjected to.

Tagge took a sip of his drink. Somehow, she felt he was looking at the film as art, rather than pornography. But there was an appreciative shift in his expression when he caught sight of her reflection behind him, dressed in nothing more than her silver bondage choker and a black silk bedroom tunic, cut as high as possible to show off the full length of her legs.

Jaina lifted an eyebrow. "Something tells me you're not just here to steal Jag's whisky?"

Tagge turned. "I get to do all the responsible parts of being a sort of boyfriend, while you have the actual sex with Sacker and Tahiri?"

Jaina gave a weak, half-guilty look. "Do you mind?"

"I've known worse relationships. I mostly called round to check if _you're_ okay?"

"I needed to repair my lightsaber," she shrugged. She still hadn't replaced the crystal. "You're the tech guy."

"Not quite what I meant. Empress. Sex-slave."

"I used to be a Jedi Knight," she said. _Used to be_. That was a surprising admission, one she hadn't known she was ready for, one she still didn't understand the full meaning of. "I understand the virtues of passivity. Of listening, serving."

"And the strengths of holding to your principles," he nodded. "I appreciate that, Your Highness."

"I like you," she said suddenly. She turned away, and walked across to the tray of bottles at the back of the room. She was drinking less, but she still knew how to get drunk.

Tagge watched her, his expression a silent question.

"Explain to me about art," she said, sloshing a hasty drink in a glass left over from before. "Then maybe we'll have sex?"

"Jaina," he said, shaking his head. "Relationships aren't _just_ about sex, you know?"

"Who said anything about relationships?" she challenged, strutting back, and glad she was in heels. "The way you react to the holovid is interesting, Moff. I just don't know if it turns me on or not." A slug of liquor, hot in her mouth. "Yet."


	11. Chapter 11

Jaina shifted sleepily on the sheets. She had one wrist chained to the corner of the bed, as usual. She was a bit sore between her legs, from the hard fucking Tahiri had been giving her earlier, intense attention with her fingers and her mouth and her lightsaber. But the sweat had dried on her skin, and her sex no longer felt like something that belonged in a laundromat. She felt very content.

She smiled as she felt Tahiri's fingers on her forearm, communicating in abbreviated special missions sign-gestures.

 _Three bad guys. In the lounge_.

"Sith," she whispered, eyes flashing wide - meeting Tahiri's steady gaze. Her head nodded sideways, reminding her that she was still handcuffed to the headboard. _You might want to unlock that_.

 _Oh, right_. Jaina nodded, and reached up, fumbling with the strap around her wrist.

Then, instinctively, she glanced around - and watched as the door disintegrated in a hail of blaster-fire.

But even before the storm of shots tore into the bedroom, there'd been an answering _snap-hiss_ , as a lightsaber came alive in Tahiri's hands. She'd never really understood until that moment that her bodyguard/girlfriend's habit of sleeping with her weapon in the bed was more than a kinky habit and a bit of foreplay.

But she'd never felt so grateful to be sleeping with the blonde, either. Tahiri had leapt forward in a Force-boosted pounce, flipping head-over-heels in a somersaulting ball of naked strength, the pure white blade of her weapon leaping and dancing to deflect away the crimson streaks of incoming blaster-bolts, and landing in a low crouch across the foot of the bed.

"Kriff, kriff, kriff," Jaina swore, tugging at her shackled wrist.

"Whenever you have time, your highness," Tahiri said, grinning at their attackers.

Jaina had her wrist half-out, and thought about just tugging, but she did things properly, unlocking the heavy padlock and unstrapping the leather belt built into the cuff.

Her freed hand leapt down towards the drawer in the bedside unit where she kept her toys. She glanced round as she moved, already searching for a target.

There were three attackers, she knew that already - female silhouettes, human in outline, but too lean and dark to be entirely human, and too focused in the Force - half attack-animal, half-machine. They were keeping up a sustained fire with their built-in blasters that was making Tahiri leap and dance and stretch and sweat to cover Jaina's naked ass with lightsaber parries - but when the blonde's energy blade reflected back the blaster-bolts they were firing to try to score hits against them, angled deflector shields flickered into existence and the energy-bolts riccocheted away off them, suggesting that they were packing some _very_ sophisticated combat tech and cybernetically-synched droid systems.

Jaina grinned, and fired off the first shot from her holdout blaster. The one on the left went down, with a smoking hole in the head or shoulder - instinctively, she'd timed her move perfectly to complement her girlfriend, and the split-second gap between the bolts Tahiri had fanned back in the cyborg's direction and the heavy shot from Jaina's pistol had been too quick for the shield-system to react. She swung the gun into a two-handed firing-posture and fired another shot at her next target - then dived away behind Tahiri, as the second cyborg answered with a lightsaber, sending her high-powered bolt straight back at them, forcing Tahiri to spin her blade point-down to catch the shot.

In answer, she punched a shot out between Tahiri's legs, but that was deflected back as well, and Tahiri had to catch that off her blade again - swaying to the side to dodge another set of high-speed bolts from their attackers' own weaponry.

"Go wide!" Tahiri yelled. Jaina was already lunging off the bed, sliding on the floor - ignoring the carpet-burns on her breasts and pussy - and reaching with the Force for her own lightsaber. She came up with the weapon in one hand, and her pistol in the other.

The nearer of the two attackers had turned towards her, and she grinned as she deflected back the shots that the cyborg offered. Her detuned blade shifted the frequency just enough for them to cause some trouble for the thing's built-in deflector. They didn't quite get through, but they didn't deflect back either, and the flicker of energy suggested that the energy shield's power-routing systems didn't like that. The next shots from her blaster punched straight through.

The thing gave a jerky twitch, perhaps damaged, perhaps just dodging, and came at her with two lightsabers. Jaina caught them both on her own blade, a power-blocking move with the weapon thrust out in her right hand, and shot the black-sheathed machine-girl in the crotch.

That just seemed to make the thing mad, but Jaina vaulted upwards, levering off her opponent's blades, her own jagged blade spinning in her hands. She decapitated the thing with a backthrust, and then tore the spine out with a slash of her weapon's tip.

Then the thing just pitched forward to the deck.

Tahiri, meanwhile, was locked in lightsaber combat with their third opponent, twisting and parrying like a dervish. She danced between blade-thrusts and blaster-bolts, her naked body seeming to glow in the crimson fire of her opponent's weapons. Showers of sparks showed where she was using the tip of her blade to short out the thing's shield-emitters, one by one.

Then she ducked low, and thrust her lightsaber up between the creature's legs - straight up through the body. The thing seemed to give a soundless shriek, and dropped, trailing smoke and pain.

"Not bad for two naked girls with serious initiative problems," Jaina smiled, flicking back her hair. She really wanted a drink.

Then she glanced down at the head of the one she'd decapitated. The mask had come apart, and she frowned at the face inside, puzzled by a sort of recognition.

The thing was so anonymous, so expressionlessly blank, and so neatly interfaced with the cybernetics, that Jaina was sure the creature had never had a real human existence outside the shell of armour and programming. But there was something else there as well, something she couldn't quite explain or identify, but something she recognized nonetheless.

"They were me," Tahiri breathed, her chest heaving heavily. Any other time, Jaina would have found her breasts distracting. "They kriffing cloned me." She 'sabered the thing at her feet. " _Machines_."

Then she was out the door in a blur of speed, and Jaina heard an electric shriek of protest from her astromech, shortly before Tahiri put a blade through the droid's dome.

Jaina was just in time to see the lightning-storm of destruction that resulted.

"Was that just gratuitous violence against droids?" she asked, reaching the bar and realising she still had a weapon in each hand. "Or did you decide that Streaker was working for whoever sent those things?"

"Two Whyrens," Tahiri answered, pacing over. "Make mine very large. Fuck, I feel like I've been violated in ways I didn't even think that Reige and Jag could think of."

She sounded like she needed the drink, but Jaina could only admire how strong and sexy she'd become. "Welcome to the club," she said, sloshing enough whiskey into Tahiri's glass to burn down a small sector.

"And yeah," Tahiri said, downing half the glass and holding out her fist for a refill. "Spanker was with them. There's no other way they could have got in here. But someone on the outside must have helped them get this far as well..."


	12. Chapter 12

Today, Jaina was being the Empress.

She'd put on the black uniform of a colonel in Flight Branch, along with pilot's gloves, gauntlets that reached back almost to the elbow, her favourite spike-heeled black boots for extra height, and her lightsaber and her hunting-blaster at her belt—and at her throat, the Medal of Conspicuous Galantry that Pellaeon had presented her with at the end of the Vong War.

She was sitting in the back of an armoured limousine—an angular, box-nosed Sienar that had something of the presence of an AT-AT, with an escort of speeder bikes and gravtrucks full of stormtroopers, flying on down the central axis of Ravelin's main avenue, with outriders holding the civilian repulsor traffic at the junctions, and everyone on the street below looking up at her in awe.

She could sense the rippling reaction in the Force, the shock of collective recognition.

 _The Empress?_

She hadn't made a formal declaration. The official promotion was still tied up with the Empire-wide vote and the public inauguration. But she supposed that was part of what _being_ the Empress was about. She'd just taken charge.

She hadn't bothered to put any clothes on while she waited for the Moffs and the security experts to arrive—her wardrobe had become part of the incident scene—but she'd smiled when Tahiri produced their flight suits from the laundry. She'd wondered briefly if she ought to move to Central Command, but she'd quickly dismissed the idea. Here, the only security loophole had been the fact that her astro-droid had let the assassin cyborgs in while her defences had been lowered, and that opening had already been shut down. Moving would introduce more variables, more risk. Her Jedi instincts—and Tahiri's—concurred with her rational analysis.

She'd led the overnight investigation personally, fuelling herself on caf laced with whatever alcohol Tahiri felt like adding in. Around daybreak, some cookies had shown up for seconds—or _pastries_ , the Imperials called them—ordered from somewhere that was probably a gratuitous security risk. By then, she was past caring.

Answers hadn't been hard to come by, and they vindicated her decision to stand her ground in her own quarters. The trio of cyborgs had inserted in an Incom Howlrunner—an anonymous low-profile ship that was ubiquitous enough to be untraceable. The Braxant Sector Fleet and Bastion Military Command would have picked up their arrival if they hadn't dropped out of hyperspace at her personal jump coordinates, and come spiralling straight down her secure flight vector and into the private hangar. They'd been able to do that thanks to telemetry and access codes provided in real-time by her own astro-droid, which had taken the apartment's unsecured turbolift up to the pad to signal their ship using his internal short-range transmitter.

Security weren't sure yet how Spanker's loyalty to her had been subverted, but now they knew exactly _what_ he'd done, and with that part of the problem solved, she was pretty sure that the apartment was as secure as anywhere in the Empire. And as Drasi had pointed out, their attackers had probably only gained limited access to the droid, as they hadn't synched the infiltration with much precision—some of the bondage the two of them had been using had been far less convenient for fighting back. Jaina decided not to ask how he knew that. Satisfied, she'd sent everyone else away, back to Military Command and the Security complex and wherever else they belonged, and as the last of them went out the door, she'd sent Tahiri to tool up in full armour.

She was surprised to realise she wanted time alone with one of the Moffs, and even more so when she worked out why.

At the last moment, she'd asked Sacker to stay for a moment, and while she stripped and changed into her best uniform, she'd asked for a loan of her armoured limousine and stormtrooper guards, grinning when the Moff referred to herself as a _taxi service_. She supposed she ought to get around to allocating herself her own official speeder, but Tagge would say that was a wasteful duplication of resources, and would also mean taking the resources away from somewhere else, like Moff Sacker's security detail. She supposed she would have to decide if she wanted to accept that argument, but for now, borrowing the local Moff's car would do. She'd maybe have to pay in bondage sex, but she couldn't say she minded.

She'd waited in the apartment for the convoy to arrive, strutting around the outer room and toying with the idea of shooting something, and she'd been pleasantly surprised when Moff Tagge had commed back, with a preliminary report on the cyborg assassin droids. There were already several different lines of forensic evidence pointing to the same conclusions about their origins, all of which reinforced her own instinctive suspicions, but she found the logistics trace he'd run on the Imperial components of their hardware the most compelling argument of all.

She smiled a little as the convoy began to circle, looking out of the window to the detention block at Military Command, where the Moffs who'd supported her ex-husband were being held.

The ones she'd once been a group-sex fucktoy for.

She stepped out of the limousine onto the landing pad, high-heels first, then smiled at the salute of the guards, and returned the acknowledgement with a pilot's gesture, as she strode towards the entrance blast-doors. She had ordered Moff Sacker's borrowed stormtroopers to stay with the vehicles, and she wondered if that was a disadvantage of the situation; but Moff Drasi vouched personally for the Security personnel she'd be dealing with, and she had sent Tahiri ahead to check on the arrangements. A General in a black uniform greeted her inside, saluting again when she announced that she was there to see one of the prisoners—she felt a little giddy for a moment, when she realised that she could give orders to Imperial Generals like that now.

Tahiri was already waiting in the security foyer, but as they'd agreed in advance, they did little more than exchange formal nods; she marched on without breaking step—down the cell-block gantry with the General and his clamshell-helmet Security troopers. Exchanging formal pleasantries with the General seemed easy, even natural; he was honoured that she was there, she was impressed by the professionalism of his facility.

But he seemed surprised, genuinely concerned, when she stopped him and his guards, and said she wanted to go into the cell alone. That was against regulations, apparently.

But she was the Empress now.

"Am I allowed to override them, General?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Good." She smiled back, pleased, and gestured for the door lock.

Moff Reige looked surprised when she marched into his cell.

"Ah, Moff Solo. I hadn't expected you to come and visit."

Jaina looked at him.

"My defender keeps me informed," he said, with a brisk shrug. "I'd assumed that people like Drasi, Sacker and Flennic were running things." _I'd assumed you were just a dial-a-delivery whore in a fancy uniform_.

"You underestimate me, Moff Reige," she said, with a steely glare. "Admittedly, you fucked with my girlfriend, and that makes this personal, but I am _very much_ the ruler of my Empire."

That made him stiffen in response, and he must have seen a flash in her eyes as she read his reaction in the Force, as something changed in his expression. "Oh," he said, when he realised the implications from her dark, unflinching gaze. "Oh, I see."

"Don't try and kriff with a rogue Jedi," she said, reflecting that he and his friends—Jag's friends—had _kriffed_ with her quite a lot and she hadn't complained. "You know, at the start of this, I was all for pardoning you and appointing you to head the Public Policy Foundation or the consular mission on Coruscant." _I might even have kissed your cock goodbye, for old time's sake._ "I thought you'd just been a naive idiot."

"And what do you see now, Grand Moff?" he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, or the contempt. Clearly, Vitor Reige was not a man who thought of himself as naive, though he was still having a hard time seeing Jaina as anything other than a stupid fucktoy full of cum.

"I see a greedy man who doesn't know when to stop." She realised that probably described half of the Moffs, and most of the other men she'd had sex with, too. "I see a man who was so _desperate_ to gain power, or hold onto his position, or just to _fuck_ the people he disliked, that he tried to stage a stupid coup he didn't need to."

"I guess there's no good in saying I did for the good of the Empire, Jedi Solo?" he asked, with a faint smile. He was probably trying to sound like he held the high ground, but the expression just made him look deluded.

"The irony is, if you'd called on me personally rather than just trying to comm, you might have ended up with me as your lightsaber-wielding assassin, rather than Drasi's."

That took him by surprise, prompting a flash of anger as he realised just how close he'd come to victory.

"Of course, the result would have been messy, but you'd have been on top, because I'd have brought the Jedi in, and the Alliance, and I'd have been _very_ good at behind-the-scenes negotiations to keep most of the Council together. And you'd have been able to fuck me whenever you fucking wanted, Moff Reige. Me _and_ Tahiri both."

"So you know about that part, too?"

"Oh yes. Imperial Security has _all_ the holos. I don't mind being the cum-compactor for a bunch of Moffs-"

"I've noticed," he shot back.

So she slapped him, hard, across the face.

"Shut up. But I draw the line at people taking advantage of my friends. Or-"

"You might want to ask Drasi about your precious blonde girlfriend," he sneered.

"What's that meant to mean?" she asked, with a sharp frown.

Moff Reige gave her a look that would have probably put her fourteen-year-old self off her closet love of all things Imperial. Rubbing his chin, like being hit by a girl was some great badge of victimization, just made him look mean and ugly. "I think I'd rather speak to my lawyer, _Grand Moff_. Or are you starting to take after your grandfather, now?"

 _I could_ , Jaina thought, coldly, tugging her gloves back on. "I _also_ know about the little pirate scam Moff Dorja had going, Moff Reige," she added, resuming the prepared remarks she'd rehearsed before the visit. Before the cyborg assassins had shown up. "Imperial freighter crews and innocent civilians. Smugglers, some of them, sure. Working for people I'd have thought of as our enemies a week or two ago. But I _definitely_ take after my father."

"I don't know _what_ you're-" Reige began, then faltered, as the door shot open. "Talking, about," he finished, weakly.

Jaina just stood there in silence, as Tahiri stomped down into the cell. She was wearing her full armour, gleaming red and tough enough to fight an AT-ST in, with a hard expression on her pretty face, and the black ribbing on the unarmoured upper legs of her breeches that made her look just a little bit like Vader. The flash of something hard and sharp and furious in her eyes made even Jaina hesitate a moment.

"Tahiri's going to interrogate you now, Moff Reige," Jaina said, standing up and putting one foot on the step, striking a bit of a poise for him. She was the hero of the Empire now. "I told her not to do any permanent damage, and made her _promise_ not to cut your dick and balls off and cook them, but she's very good with pain."

There was genuine fear in Reige's eyes as he looked up at Tahiri, his guilty eyes flickering in a way that made clear he was a coward.

"Not all of us have the advantage of our parents' respect," he began.

Jaina turned up the stairs, and left. Even though the door had whooshed shut behind her, she could hear the sounds of something being slammed off the metal wall inside the cell. She was glad that the guards had left several empty cells between each of the ones housing the captive Moffs. That would keep the noise down for her next meeting. She didn't want to be distracted by trying to work out just what Tahiri was doing to Vitor Reige.

 _But what does he mean about asking Drasi?_ she asked, frowning to herself as she stepped into the cell holding Moff Dorja.

That would have to wait.

"Moff Dorja," she said, with a look and tone that might have been mistaken for pleasant. "In case your defender didn't tell you, I'm the new Imperial head of state. I'm here to talk about your betrayal of _my_ Empire in collusion with some low-life scum. And I don't just mean Reige and my ex-husband..."

She could still hear the sound of Tahiri playing shockball with the walls of Reige's cell.

"As you can hear, I've left Commander Veila interrogating Moff Reige," she said. "I thought I might try and practice my own skills as an inquisitor with you."


	13. Chapter 13

She had gone alone to see Drasi in his office at Security, leaving Tahiri in the hangar with the limousine and Sacker's stormtroopers, and she'd ordered the quartet of DT-4 droids who Tahiri had insisted she take with her to wait as far back as she could without Tahiri noticing. She had thought she might end up drawing her lightsaber. Or sucking the Moff's cock.

She didn't want witnesses.

She had a strange sense that she knew the uniformed aide who escorted her to the Moff's office, but she was sure she'd have remembered a slender, precisely obedient Imperial secretary with a polished accent and perfect legs, and given her formal social circle, she wasn't sure where she'd have met one that her Director of Security trusted.

And then she was face-to-face with Drasi.

"I'm going to have to ask your aide to step outside," she said.

"Zero-Seven," he nodded, gesturing the girl out. Jaina wondered if that was her ID, or a coded instruction.

"Thank you," Jaina said, and waited til the door slid shut.

"So this is about Tahiri," he had said, and then he told her everything.

Jaina listened quietly, not really understanding at first. Drasi was surprisingly delicate and succinct—leaving things unsaid, she realised, for Tahiri to fill in for herself, when Jaina was prepared to ask her.

"Thank you," she nodded, when he was finished. She exhaled.

"I'm glad you came, actually," Drasi said. "There are some matters that we need to discuss. Concerning the succession."

"Jedi babies," she nodded. She'd been putting off thinking about that part.

"We think that if you give the Empire four children, that should be sufficient, Grand Moff," Drasi remarked. There was a casualness to his tone. But Jaina knew that he would not allow her to dissent.

"All at once?" she asked, trying to make a joke of it.

"Why not?" he smiled. "That way we can pretend that they're Fel's."

"No," she said.

"There would be certain advantages. None of that awkward questioning about who the fathers might be. Although considering the best choice of genetic partner to guarantee a strong Force-sensitive daughter, _fathers_ is not perhaps going to be the best word for all of them."

"No," Jaina said. She wasn't having quads. She didn't care if people _thought_ Jag had left her pregnant, but she wasn't going to make any effort to pass her children off as his. "Wait a minute. You're going to force me and _Tahiri_ to have children together?!"

"Yes, Grand Moff," Drasi answered. "Is that a problem?"

"Oh, no," she laughed. "Not at all." She gave him a wry, lopsided look. "Why not one each from you, Tagge and Sacker, too?"

"Grand Moff," Drasi smiled. "That's an _excellent_ idea."


	14. Chapter 14

Once they were back at the Tower, Jaina poured herself a drink, and went to talk things over with Tahiri.

Her girlfriend was already naked, if you didn't count the bright red slave-collar and the fluffy white towel she'd thrown over one arm for the shower. Jaina, still in her formal uniform, felt overdressed—and the fact that in her heels, she was the same height as Tahiri naked, didn't seem right at all.

"You did well with Reige," she smiled, starting to strip off.

"Thanks," Tahiri answered, with a casual, easy shrug. She had the towel carefully turned so that the Imperial insignia that labelled the corner was on display.

Jaina removed her boots, and loosened her tunic so the matching badge embossed on her silver choker was on show. "Do you want to tell me about... anything he might have done to you, beyond the stuff I know already?"

"Not really," Tahiri answered, quiet and calm.

"And if I _order_ you, Tahiri?" Jaina asked.

Something flickered in her eyes, like a spark in a circuit. "You know?"

Jaina nodded. "I know."

"Okay." She nodded in response, perhaps mostly to herself. "I, they," she said. "They _tried_ to brainwash me. Put me in a _machine_. When that didn't work, they tried another machine, and then another one. Kriffed me up completely. They wanted an assassin fucktoy with the free will of a TIE Fighter, a droid brain with a lightsaber, unable to disobey their programming. What they got was a girl who could obey orders without thinking for a few hours at a time, and whose orgasms were hotwired to a perverted love of Imperial insignia. After a while, I just started fighting back, _kriff_ the Jedi and the Alliance. So long as I wasn't doing anything that actively seemed like sabotage, I figured they'd put the reactions down to the Vong part of me kicking out the Imperial programming each time."

"You do a remarkably good job of being human," Jaina said.

"I try," Tahiri exhaled, and Jaina realised how much emotional strain the admission had caused her. So she just put down her drink, and held her friend.

"I'm just lucky the Empire means you now," Tahiri smiled. "I can still feel, still think, still love. I thought I'd have to fight down the obedience programming. Wasn't sure how I was going to have a sex life when I needed Imperial uniforms to get wet. But now _you're_ the Empire, so I can love the Empire, and that's good. Better, a lot better."

"Can you... completely reverse what they did?" she asked. "Vong stuff."

"I'd have to want to," Tahiri breathed. "Or, you know. Be ordered."

 _And she doesn't want that_ , Jaina realised. Whatever the reason, the tension and balance she'd acquired was something she was hesitant to let anyone play about with. Perhaps she was just happy being loyal to Jaina. Or to the Empire in general, considering how much she liked Sacker, too.

"You're doing great as you are," Jaina told her. Then she paused, eyes narrowing, as she remembered something she hadn't asked. Something Drasi had been vague about, in places. "Who's _they_...?"

"Scientists," Tahiri shrugged. "I didn't know their names, or who they worked for. Reige and Jag, I guess. Some had Hapan accents, some were Alliance. But who knows if that's a real memory, or not. And they used droids a lot."

Jaina blinked, taken aback by the calmness of Tahiri's voice, but not, she realised belatedly, particularly surprised to learn the Alliance and the Hapans had been involved.

And then, for some reason, she was laughing, hugging Jaina back. "And in the end, I got you, and you got the Empire, and..."

"Not Drasi?" Jaina asked. "Sacker? Tagge?"

"No." Tahiri's blonde head shook against her shoulder. "Drasi... found out, but he was powerless to act without Jag knowing. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Jaina smiled. Were they both crying?

"He came to see me once. I think he was the only person I saw one-on-one that whole time who didn't... you know. Fuck me."

"I have a hard time believing he was _powerless_ ," Jaina said, with a thoughtful press of her lips. "Considering his reputation for... working with pretty girls, too."

"Maybe he was just put off that someone else had got to me first," Tahiri shrugged. "I think he likes his girls to be good Imperials, too. Not shackled outland scum kept in a cage." She exhaled, then gave an amused smile. "Anyway. _Thank you_. For setting me free, for letting me be human again. And making it okay for me to be the Empire's, too."

"You sure?"

Tahiri nodded. "So everything's good. And I have to obey you, and Sacker, and Tagge, who's weirdly _nice_ for an Imperial, and Drasi, who's actually not bad for a complete _scumbag_ of an Imperial."

"Glad to see you're still the strongest, sexiest, girl I know," Jaina smiled at her.


	15. Chapter 15

"My Moffs," Jaina said. This was the first time she'd addressed the full Moff Council, with every chair in the chamber filled, and less than half-a-dozen of them attending by holocomm. She looked along the rows of seats, noting the new appointments she'd made, though they seemed to have already settled comfortably into the ranks.

She'd resolved the question of what to do with Braxant by reducing the size of the territory, handing the more complicated systems to other Moffs, and appointing herself as Sector Governor, which gave her theoretical control over the fleet of twelve Star Destroyers defending Bastion, and the associated TIE Fighters, escort forces and deepdock bases. No-one, including herself, seemed to seriously think she'd _use_ them, but Admiral Nalgol seemed to appreciate reporting directly to her.

That had left a chair vacant in the room, which seemed too much like a tacit acknowledgement that a faction of the Empire was no longer represented. Rather than redecorate, she'd promoted General Sunber to become the first ever Moff of the Stormtrooper Corps, and moved up Colonel Axman, now _General_ Axman, into his old slot as commander of the 501st Legion. No-one seemed to have noticed yet that by streamlining the internal command structure of the Empire's élite shock troops, she had brought them more closely under her own direct control.

She was starting to feel comfortable in the Grand Moff's uniform, with her hair tied back in a simple regulation braid rather than a Zenji updo, and the high heels on her boots—wedges rather than spikes today, to be as professional and practical as possible. Tahiri said that was a show of confidence.

"I wanted to brief you in person about the results of the investigation into the recent attempt to penetrate the security of Ravelin," she said. They hadn't got definitive answers yet about exactly where the cyborg Jedi clone assassins were being created, but they had a shortlist of systems to explore, and they'd obtained corroboration, either direct or indirect, of everything else they knew or suspected. "We now know that this was the work of a small number of covert assets associated with the foolish coup attempt a few weeks ago, or possibly criminal elements elsewhere in the Galaxy, with whom the conspirators were heavily involved."

She had to be careful about how she phrased everything—even in a closed session like this, she didn't want anyone over-interpreting the implications of outside involvement, or realising just how detached she now felt from the Coruscant government and the Jedi Order. But at the same time, she didn't want to say anything misleading that might end up looking like wilful misdirection.

"I can, however, reassure you all that the specific security oversight that encouraged them to risk this clumsy move has been shut down. This was achieved through a foreign technology sample brought into Imperial Space by the former High Moff. I cannot speculate about whether this represents more than stupidity on his part and opportunism by others." The most unexpected news had come in the form of a comm call from Moff Sacker, passing on a tech analysis reporting that Spanker had had a security subroutine uploaded some time earlier—either by Jag, or back when she was in Alliance space. The code certainly wasn't Imperial, and might have originally been uploaded simply to film her having sex. With that security oversight now firmly shut down, she reckoned they were entirely secure.

"As to wider motives, we believe that these recent... disturbances... represented a desperate attempt by some of High Moff Fel's former associates to conceal previous illegal activities from the scrutiny that would result, and _has_ now resulted, from a shift in the balance of power. I can take no pleasure in the assertion that at least two former members of this Council knowingly engaged in a sustained pattern of crimes against the Empire, but you have all seen the evidence. I do not need to mention their names directly. However, I am pleased to report that the majority of the ex-Moffs are now actively assisting the Imperial Security investigation."

The real surprise was how little use the ex-Moffs really were. Dorja and Saretti had been cooperative, but they hadn't told them anything they didn't know already. Reige had proved surprisingly tight-lipped. Tahiri said he wanted to hold onto the idea that he had some leverage, some power over them. Not that that had mattered. That wasn't really why Jaina had let her work him over, and he'd revealed his guilt in every action, every reaction he couldn't hide in the Force from two angry ex-Jedi. Now he was out of bacta, she might let Tahiri play with him again.

Now for the _really_ tricky part. "I can confirm that Moff Reige has been directly implicated in these latest criminal actions. I can, additionally, confirm reports that Moff Reige has requested a new defender. I cannot comment further on this at present." The fact that Moff Reige's defender had been using their shielded conversations to pass on messages was the trickiest problem to resolve, and not just because their only real evidence was being provided by Jaina's reading of Reige in the Force. The defender, a striking redhead with a mind as sharp as a point-defense laser, was denying everything, and Jaina was prepared to believe they really hadn't known what the messages they were delivering had been about. And then there was the question of how to proceed. On the one hand, simply announcing their arrest without any explanation would seem to compromise the trial process, but actually making public what they had done would raise uncomfortable questions about the independence and integrity of the Imperial legal profession. Drasi, who Jaina had always taken to be the subtlest of the three Moffs, was all for going public and then using a firing squad. But perhaps that was just making her more stubborn in her own determination to wait.

She had been surprised when Tahiri had pointed out that her old, Rebel self might have been more inclined to act like Drasi. _If the Empire can_ _rehabilitate_ _former_ _Galactic Alliance executioners, I think they can give other people the same chance_.

More frustratingly, while Imperial Security had traced three steps in the chain of cut-outs being used to courier the messages, all of them were apparently ignorant of the nature of the communications they'd been carrying, just as Jaina suspected the defender was as well. There was no _tangible_ evidence to confirm they had been notifying Reige of the raid, and they still hadn't worked out exactly _who_ he had been in contact with—all they knew was that they had been able to send cyborg assassins against them, and that they had been able to compromise her astro-droid.

But the evidence of Reige and Dorja's earlier criminal activities was helping to narrow down the search for answers.

"Rest assured, my Moffs, we may not have identified the entire network of traitors and criminals, but the Empire can certainly keep them at arms length. And I trust I have proved _myself_ more readily adapted to the service of the Empire than some of Moff Fel's other imports and personnel choices. At present, there is no evidence to connect my ex-husband directly to the conspiracy, beyond his poor choice of political allies—but if such evidence is obtained, you will be informed immediately. I have no desire—no _need_ —to protect his reputation. These events have only made me more aware of where my loyalty belongs, and further reinforced that commitment to the Empire. But at the same time, I will not encourage idle speculation."

She supposed she was being cautious about assuming that Jag was involved. Perhaps too cautious, but that felt like the right choice.

Thus far, the evidence didn't suggest anything more than a hidden Imperial bases or two, with some support from pirates and rogue corporate interests outside Imperial Space. And following up potential leads about the location of the cloning lab would be a good way for her and Tahiri to work into their new role as lightsaber-weilding servants of the Empire. "In my new capacity as Governor of Braxant, I am _personally_ overseeing the reconnaissance investigation into the location of their hidden base, and I hope to have results for you all very soon. Now—any questions?"


	16. Chapter 16

Jaina took her seat in the cockpit of the Imperial shuttle—the co-pilot's seat, alongside Tahiri at the controls. She watched with a smile as her girlfriend ran through the pre-flight checks, punching buttons on the dashboard, reaching up to flick switches on the overhead console, exchanging comm chatter with Military Command's flight controllers, looking very poised and proper in her Imperial pilot's uniform, even though there was something unmistakably sensual in the outwardly-professional ballet of her black-gloved hands.

Jaina felt underdressed in comparison—she was wearing TIE Pilot chic, a high-waisted gunner's jacket of ribbed black nerfhide over the standard black flight suit, with the collar closed to hide her silver choker, a pistol on her belt, and a pair of regulation knee-boots modified with ten-centimeter lifts in the heels to give just a little height. Maybe if she'd pinned her Grand Moff's rank badge to the lapel, she might feel less like the shuttle's cargo tech, and more like she was the one in charge.

She'd barely recognized her girlfriend when she arrived on the rooftop landing pad, and found her black-clad pilot standing at attention alongside the shuttle's boarding ramp, her uniform impeccable, everything perfectly aligned with regulations right down to the way she'd styled her hair back beneath her peaked cap, and the lack of high heels on her boots—her collar concealed below the neckline, her lightsaber either in a hidden holster or simply packed away as luggage for the flight.

The salute she offered was as perfect as the rest of her—a click of her heels, a bob of her head. Even the mood she presented in the Force was flawlessly disciplined. Only the flash of flirtatious amusement from her green eyes betrayed her. Jaina answered with a Rebel salute, which had made Tahiri break into a grin, and they'd hugged before resuming the act of Grand Moff and Lieutenant, and marched aboard the shuttle, followed up the ramp by the the eight hulking DT-4 combat droids that they were taking with them on this trip.

 _Cabin luggage_ , Tahiri had said.

They'd headed forward to the cockpit, while the droids took the seats which lined the access corridor at the top of the ramp. There was a luxurious passenger compartment at the rear of the shuttle, with a big drinks cabinet and a bigger double bed, and hold space for their wardrobe and their bondage toys, but Jaina hadn't even thought of heading back there, or ordering Tahiri to set the autopilot and join her. She preferred being with Tahiri in the cockpit, watching her play the role she'd chosen for herself right now.

The view was spectacular in other ways, as well—the shuttle's cockpit viewport was a single pane of flawless transparisteel, so wide that Jaina couldn't see the sides, and sloped back overhead so that there was no sense of a top edge at all. For Jaina, that design detail was a subtle touch of luxury as meaningful as any of the bespoke details of the passenger accommodation.

She'd felt like an Empress for the first time as the shuttle lifted from the Imperial Tower and flew past the Moff Council Chamber and across the city grid, and now they were leaving orbit, she had a clear view of the stars of open space and the arrowheads of the Imperial Fleet.

 _Her_ fleet, at least in theory. Sort of.

The _Rapier_ was directly ahead of them, massive and unmistakable. The Super Star Destroyer was far larger than any other combat warship remaining in the Empire's fleet, so large that the other ships in the formation were almost lost in the surrounding starscape—but although sheer size provided space for an ostentatious number of weapons and hangar bays, the ship's dagger hull was proportionally slender, and the interior was mostly engine, enough power generators for a fleet of normal Star Destroyers, paired with a first-class hyperdrive and nine high-output realspace thrusters at the stern. The unimaginable energy that could be thrown through the drive system propelled the massive hull to speeds that were normally the exclusive prize of fighters or fast gunships, as well as powering unsurpassed deflector shields, sensor arrays and long-range comm transceivers.

The smaller cruisers which surrounded the command ship were more conventional—a squadron of triangular hulls, all identically-proportioned, each with a central hangar bay becoming visible half-way down the keel as Tahiri flew the shuttle closer—but although they resembled old Imperial Star Destroyers, Jaina already knew that they were _Vindicator_ -class ships, less than half the size but outfitted with the same deflector and sensor systems, and the same full combat wing of TIE Fighters. The hull was tough enough, the turbolasers and other weapons batteries more than adequate—better than the heavy guns of an _Imperial_ -class ship against fighter attack. The main compromise was the lack of spacious troop decks that could accommodate an armoured battlegroup and their associated AT-ATs and assault shuttles, but the number of troops that could be carried aboard the _Rapier_ more than balanced out the squadron's capabilities.

"Coming up on the command ship now, Grand Moff," Tahiri remarked, her Outer Rim intonation half-hidden by a playful attempt at an Imperial accent. She could do a much more precise impression—the comm voice that she'd used to clear their departure with the tower had been completely flawless. But that wouldn't sound as sexy, as teasing, or as deliciously flirtations. "I wouldn't have thought that Moff Tagge was the type to go in for something so... phallic. Perhaps he's trying to tell you something...?"

"Just fly the ship," Jaina grinned, then glanced across, as she caught a flicker of mischief from Tahiri through the Force. "What are you thinking?"

"Mostly that the old Jaina Solo wouldn't have just leaned back in the command chair and left me to do all the flying, Grand Moff," Tahiri smirked.

"The old Jaina wasn't about to become the Empress," she laughed. "So shut up and just fly the ship."


	17. Chapter 17

The Imperial shuttle came into the _Rapier_ 's main landing bay, wings folding up, undercarriage skids deploying downwards. Tahiri had lined up their arrival perfectly, straight in front of the open avenue of gleaming deck which stretched down the centre of the hangar floor.

The rest of the vast space was filled with Imperial personnel, standing at attention in their smartest uniforms. The avenue of open deck was flanked by stormtroopers in gleaming white-armoured regiments, with a group of officers in their dress uniforms providing a focus at the far end. Further back on either side were formations of personnel from every arm of the Imperial military, including some she was sure the planners had just made up for the occasion.

Jaina exhaled.

"You can do this, Grand Moff," Tahiri teased, her voice now accentlessly Imperial. She glanced round, and gave a fond smile. "Jaina."

"Thanks." Jaina stood and put her fingertips to Tahiri's shoulder, the most she'd risk in front of all the recording devices that were looking at the shuttle's cockpit, though the silence that passed between them communicated everything. Then she turned and walked aft, positioning herself just inside in the entrance to the passenger quarters in the back of the shuttle, while the eight droids formed up in front of her.

The fact that she was starting the formalities in a private bedroom which she used exclusively for bondage sex seemed crazy, but not exactly inappropriate.

The ramp lowered with a loud hiss of hydraulics, and the DT-4 droids marched down, forming an honour guard. From somewhere outside the shuttle, she heard the dramatic opening notes of the Imperial March. Had that been recorded, or did they have a military band somewhere in amongst all the different units standing at attention?

Jaina hid her smile, pulled her uniform cap onto her head, and stepped forward, her boot-heels clicking softly on the deck.

The first part felt easy enough, down the ramp and out from underneath the shuttle's cockpit, into the open hangar—but then the sheer scale of the ceremony hit her—the endless ranks of soldiers, backed by the insistent thunder of the music and the anticipation of an audience that was far larger even than the Empire.

What was the last time there had been an Galaxy-wide HoloNet event this big? Not just a political news story or sports final. A big symbolic public ceremony to mark a change in the Galactic order, that had caught the combined attention of the Rebels, Empire, and neutral space? Her parents' wedding?

There would be recording devices everywhere, all of them scanning and recording her every move in perfect detail—many of them transmitting live to the HoloNet, others recording the event for image archives, public records, and distribution to the newspackets. One way or another, without the problems of intergalactic invasions and Imperial censorship that had previously disrupted the social calendar, she'd been told that she was reaching the widest media audience of any event in recent Galactic history.

 _Everyone_ was watching her. They would see a short, slender girl, dressed in the informal uniform of a fighter pilot, without rank insignia or command codes, a service blaster on her belt. No lightsaber.

She walked in a loose approximation of a military march. People said she looked a lot like her mom, but that her expressions often reminded them of her father.

The grey-uniformed group ahead of her had resolved into the of the Moff Council. She was pretty sure a few of them at least would be droid duplicates, but she didn't think she could tell which. She was too tense to focus in the Force, her entire existence like a held breath.

All the Moffs had turned out in full dress. Even Drasi and Sacker were wearing grey today, rather than the usual black. Tagge was smiling. Flennic too.

She dropped to one knee in front of her Moffs, removing her cap as she did so. Somehow, she'd reached the end of the difficult part without even noticing. The music had stopped, as well.

"Jaina Organa Solo, Hereditary Princess of the House of Alderaan." She didn't recognize the voice. "Daughter of Her Serene Highness the Vicereine, Leia Organa, granddaughter of Darth Vader, last Lord of the Sith, and of Her Royal Highness Padmé Amidala Naberrie of the Naboo. The Galactic Empire calls you, by the summons of the Council and the consent of the people, to take up the rank and place of Empress."

A pause. Absolute silence.

The Galaxy was watching.

She felt a cloak being draped around her shoulders, a chain clasp drawn across her throat. A velvet cushion, as black as space, with highlights like distant starlight, was brought forward in the black-gloved hands of an officer, and she saw the flash of the silver circlet which had been balanced on top, and after a moment's arrangement, the diadem was neatly fitted on her own head.

"Arise, Empress Jaina."

She stood, seeing the hand gesture from one of the Moffs. The cloak rippled out full length. She glanced down at the slender chain across the front which, in combination with the ribbed and padded leather of her gunnery jacket, made her look just a little bit like Darth Vader.

The Moffs saluted—a symbolic gesture, a nod of welcome to her new self, without the kneeling that she had performed to signal her commitment.

But then she turned, and the entire hangar bay dropped to their knees. First the stormtroopers, then the soldiers behind them, and then the rest, until finally, the entire audience, symbolic representatives of the entire Galactic Empire, were kneeling to salute their Empress and her Moffs.

She smiled, more amused than anything else. She had Drasi, Tagge and Sacker at her back, and she could see Tahiri perched up in the cockpit of the shuttle, flashing her a grin and waving cheerfully.

She'd come to the Empire to marry the head of state and become a force for Jedi and Alliance influence. Instead, she'd _become_ the head of state, and she'd just been married to the Empire.

 _Not quite what anyone had planned_ , she thought—but she definitely felt this was an improvement on the first idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( _Empress Jaina will return in Imperial Space III: The Imperial March_ )
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's read this far...


End file.
